


Embers

by Antillia



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Bloodline - Claudia Gray, Star Wars: Resistance Reborn - Rebecca Roanhorse
Genre: (totally unnecessary romance), Bloodline/Resistance Reborn/Black Spire spoilers/references, Canon compliant whenever possible, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Leia Organa's 'Fulcrum', M/M, New Galactic Alliance, Politics + total fluff and nonsense, Pre- to Post- TRoS, References to First Order torture, guilt/redemption, trauma/recovery, writing Casterfo into the events of TRoS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 14:08:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 45
Words: 86,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21736084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antillia/pseuds/Antillia
Summary: Weaving a tale of Ransolm Casterfo into TRoS and beyond.
Relationships: Finn/Poe Dameron, Leia Organa & Ransolm Casterfo, Ransolm Casterfo/Hevasi Joy, Ransolm Casterfo/Leia Organa, Rose Tico/Cutar Har
Comments: 348
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Leia stood with her hands braced against the table. She looked like she had aged years in only a few moments. Her head was bowed, and instinctually, Poe reached to steady her. She was frail under his hands, her shoulders trembling. When she looked up, her eyes were filled with tears, but her lips curved in an incredulous smile.
> 
> “What is it?” Poe asked, confused by her reaction. “Are you okay?” Maybe this had all been too much. She should be resting; it was his job to lead now. “Do you need to take a break?”
> 
> “It’s the list,” she said, and there was disbelief in her voice. Disbelief and pure joy. “I - I never knew. I thought he was gone.”’
> 
> ~ Rebecca Roanhorse, ‘Resistance Reborn’
> 
>   
(Days after the events of Crait, and shortly before the Resistance mission to Corellia.)

+

"How are they?"

Finn glanced up from his datapad. Leia Organa was older than most, but whatever powered the General had her alert, brisk and businesslike in the wee hours of the morning - after a totally wild, adrenaline-filled day.

"They're stable, General." Finn was monitoring the high-profile prisoners the Resistance had rescued from Corellia. Severely weakened, they'd suffered horrors Finn didn't really want to think about; the First Order didn’t fool around with political prisoners. “Those in the worst shape are being treated by med droids.”

Leia nodded, considering it a minor miracle the weakest had made it this far. "And the others?"

Finn assumed she was really asking about her friend, Senator Casterfo. After a brief introduction to the Resistance, he and the others had been shepherded to a quieter setting. Med droids advised that the prisoners - patients, really - be allowed privacy to get their bearings. 

According to Poe, Casterfo had once betrayed Leia. Yet she’d embraced the man for a very long time when he'd stepped through the door of the safe house. Leia's hope fuelled the Resistance. That her strained, lined face had lit up like the sun when she’d first learned there was a chance he’d survived had made the decision to head to Corellia unanimous.

_ __ _

_ __ _

"We're stretched a bit thin, General. Kaydel and Rose are with the women. They've settled in for the night, and the men are bunked together." The Resistance didn't have resources to provide them with the care and attention they required. None of them were supposed to be left alone, so this was the solution they'd arrived at.

"I can find out if Senator Casterfo is awake," he offered. Most of his charges had showered, some had fallen asleep, but he was pretty sure Leia's friend was up and about. Finn couldn’t help but be wide awake. No matter how wiped out he was from the mission, reading up on how to best help torture victims was the opposite of conducive to a good night’s rest. 

"Thank you." Leia gave him a weary smile.

Finn returned to report that it was Casterfo’s turn for the 'fresher. The newcomers were stuck with prison-issue jumpsuits for now, but showering symbolized an all-important fresh start. A flicker of disappointment crossed Leia's face, which Finn attributed to the fact she and her old friend hadn’t had any time in private. 

"Thank you, Finn. I'll check back later. I appreciate everything you're doing, and I'm sure they do, too.” She smiled warmly. “Would you like to join the party now that everyone’s settled in? I can arrange for someone to spell you off." 

Finn was still dressed for the glamorous birthday party the First Order crashed back on Corellia. What Leia referred to as a ‘party’ had probably become a glorified strategizing session by now.

He shook his head. "I don't feel right leaving them." Not even for the first chance the Resistance had to regroup after all they'd been through since Crait.

"You have a good heart, Finn,” said Leia softly, patting his arm.

+

When the General checked back a short time later, Casterfo had fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion. Leia thanked Finn for the update and ordered him to get some rest, too. Threepio could easily take the next shift. It ought to be quiet, because all eleven prisoners who’d opted to join them had retired for the night.

It wasn’t lost on Finn that General Organa was doing no such thing - she’d already headed back to the makeshift command centre. People had orbited her like satellites all day. Wasn’t she supposed to avoid exerting herself?

+

“Ransolm?” Leia called softly. The room where the male prisoners were quartered was dim, not dark. All of them had endured long periods of solitary confinement—some of it in the dark, some of it in glaringly bright light. Either way, darkness was no friend to any of them. 

Leia whispered her friend’s name a second time, knowing better than to ignore the feeling that she needed to check on him. She, Poe and Rieekan had finally finished for the night. It didn’t matter what time it was; a whisper in the Force was never something to ignore.

The voice that answered wasn’t Ransolm’s. 

“I’ve done my best, but I can’t get him to come out of the ‘fresher.” 

That sounded like the grav-ball player - what was his name again? Leia could just make him out on one of the upper bunks. Murmuring her thanks, she headed for the dark rectangle in the far corner marking the entrance to the ‘fresher.

Leia’s heart sank when her eyes adjusted to the darkness. A solitary form was curled up at the far end of a shower stall. His feet were bare against the cold tile.

“Ransolm?” Leia kept her voice low, but it felt like it echoed too harshly.

He didn’t respond, so Leia knelt beside him. It was a standard shower, not a sonic, and the faucet was leaky. Water pooled near her friend’s toes but he didn’t seem aware of it. 

She whispered his name again before placing a cautious hand on his shoulder. Ransolm was shivering. His prison-issue jumpsuit was warm enough, so it wasn’t from the cold.

“Leia?” His voice was hoarse and he sounded confused. 

“Come.” Leia took her old friend by the hand and helped him to his feet. He towered over her. Even so, he trailed behind her like a lost child.

+

“Please, sit down.” Leia shut the door and guided Ransolm to the closest of the two bunks in her quarters. The Collective was well-organized, so space wasn’t a problem. Too bad the Resistance wasn’t welcome here for longer than a day.

He sat on the edge of the bunk and Leia joined him. He’d always been on the thin side, but Ransolm was gaunt as a scarecrow now. Haggard and drawn, whatever hells he’d suffered had straightened his hair and silvered it prematurely. There were cruel gashes all over his face and neck, too - someone had given him a shave back on Corellia. One of the cuts had opened. 

Ransolm caught her looking at it. 

“Straight razor?” she asked softly.

He nodded, averting his gaze.

Another small torture then, even in the simple dignity of a shave. Every stroke of the blade a threat, not a promise. What they must have done to him, all these years—

Leia stopped herself. She needed to focus on what was most important. “It’s time to get some rest, my friend.” 

Ransolm nodded. That didn’t mean he moved.

“You need to lie down.” Leia made it a direct instruction and he complied, his expression eerily vacant. His mind was elsewhere, and Leia didn’t want to think where that might be. Seeing that he’d curled himself into a ball facing the wall, she put her hand on his shoulder and kept it there.

Leia took a shaky breath. By definition, torture was the systemic dismantling of a person’s identity, their humanity. It was meant to destroy someone, along with their leadership potential.

Tears pricked her eyes but she willed them away. What she herself had suffered at Vader’s hands had lasted for hours; this man had been at the mercy of the First Order for years. She reminded herself that he was resilient - as a child, he’d survived against all odds. She had to believe he could do it again.

Her mouth a grim line, Leia shrugged off her cloak and folded it into a pillow for herself. She couldn’t be bothered to get the the one from the other bunk. She could do without the extra blanket, too.

Then she kicked off her shoes, too drained to care where they landed. She’d gotten used to sleeping in her clothes since Crait. Swinging her legs up onto the bunk, she lay down on the narrow cot. She made sure her back was against his.

“Ransolm?” He didn’t answer, but Leia knew he was awake. 

She could never lie to him. She couldn’t whisper that he was safe, or that everything would be alright. Nowhere in the galaxy was safe for them, not now.

But she could tell him the truth: “You’re with us, now. You’re not alone.” 

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +
> 
> Thanks to a lead provided by Maz Kanata, a group headed by Poe Dameron and Wedge Antilles successfully rescues a number of high-profile First Order dissidents from imprisonment on Corellia. The Resistance also gains possession of a list of potential allies the First Order plans to target.
> 
> Escaping on a stolen blockade runner, they save the chief benefactor of a shadowy group known as ‘The Collective’ after a First Order attack on her birthday party, which functions as a cover for the auctioning of the stolen lists.
> 
> In return, the Collective grants the Resistance temporary refuge at a safe house—after demanding every last credit the Resistance has to its name.
> 
> ~’Resistance Reborn’, in a nutshell


	2. Chapter 2

+

Ransolm woke with a start, adrenaline spiked, heart pounding - until he recalled where he was. 

The folded cloak beside him meant he hadn't imagined the voice that saved him from his nightmares. Leia was alive. She’d arranged to have him rescued. Then, she'd rescued him all over again.

He sat up, running his hands through his hair before covering his face and taking a few deep breaths. He was free. It was enough to make him lightheaded.

He got to his feet at once, because the sound of running water coming from what had to be a ‘fresher told him where the princess was. Suddenly uncomfortable with where _he_ was, Ransolm looked around for his boots. Best to avoid gossip.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Captain Solo surely knew his wife's compassionate nature better than anyone, but that didn't change the fact that he’d just spent the night in a married woman's quarters. Where were his boots? Or his socks, for that matter? Then he remembered.

Trusting that Leia would understand, Ransolm made a hasty departure - in his bare feet.

"Good morning, Senator Casterfo!" exclaimed a familiar metallic voice. C-3PO nearly ran into him.

Ransolm winced. He didn't need to be reminded of that particular title, and there went any hope of a quiet exit.

"Good morning, Threepio." Much as he hadn’t wanted to be discovered, Ransolm found himself wanting to smile. It was surprisingly good to see Leia's protocol droid again. 

"I expect you'll be needing your boots!" Threepio observed. Not exactly what Ransolm wanted pointed out so loudly - especially not with two women walking by - but there was no help for it. 

The shorter one smiled at him. If she thought it strange to catch him in this state, she didn’t let it show. Ransolm remembered how kindly she’d treated him last night. So had everyone else, from what he could recall. Ransolm did his best to smile back at...Rose, was it? He’d almost forgotten how to do it.

"This way, Senator!" Threepio was shuffling off in the direction of the boots in question, indicating that Ransolm should follow him.

"Thank you, Threepio.“ Speaking was slightly painful, and his voice sounded scratchy and hoarse to his ears. “Please note that in the future, I'd prefer not to be addressed as 'Senator'." 

"Of course, sir." Threepio processed that. Organic behaviour occasionally defied logic. Why wouldn’t a senator wish to be addressed as such? Princess Leia didn't care to be referred to as a princess anymore, either. He couldn’t begin to guess their reasons.

+

Leia found Ransolm shortly after he’d managed to find his boots. He was heading into the corridor again when she spotted him. The princess approached with a smile, looping her arm through his in a reassuring manner. 

They were just stepping into the makeshift dining hall when Leia was swept into a shaggy embrace. The way she was hugging the Wookiee right back led Ransolm to conclude that this must be Chewbacca, hero of the Rebellion, and her husband's best friend.

Leia introduced him as ‘Chewie’, and Ransolm immediately extended a hand. That seemed to surprise Chewbacca, perhaps because most people avoided shaking hands with his species. ‘Chewie’ did have a very firm grip.

Ransolm smiled. That was getting easier by the moment. “Does this mean I'll finally meet the legendary Han Solo?" Solo and Chewbacca were said to be inseparable. If circumstances were as dire as he was beginning to understand, surely Captain Solo had abandoned his racing career and returned to his wife’s side.

Leia and the Wookiee exchanged glances. The smile died on Ransolm's face, because Chewbacca looked away and a shadow crossed the princess' face.

"Ask me again later," Leia said softly, patting his arm and composing her features.

+


	3. Chapter 3

+

"They're here." Finn nudged Poe Dameron and nodded in the direction of the doorway. Leia had finally appeared for breakfast, along with her companion, who looked to be feeling much better than the grav-ball star had led them to expect. Senator Casterfo was even shaking Chewie’s hand. 

"Think she seems any better?" 

Finn knew how worried Poe was about their General. Leia was running on empty and had a long way to go before a med droid would give her a clean bill of health. "She doesn't look any worse," he murmured.

He hoped General Organa would appreciate how efficiently they'd transferred most personnel to the blockade runner they’d swiped from Corellia yesterday. Multiple trips through crowded streets hadn’t been easy. Worse, it had put Chewie in a foul mood. The Wookiee hadn’t wanted to let Leia out of his sight, especially not with the Collective involved. Fortunately food improved Chewie’s temper, and food was something their hosts didn’t skimp on.

"I'm guessing those two had plenty to talk about.” He meant Leia and her tall, haggard companion. The General was on Casterfo’s arm now, making it seem like her old friend was escorting her to breakfast. 

Poe suspected she was deliberately making the traumatized senator feel like he was the one doing the leading; Leia had a knack for building confidence in people.

According to Threepio and Cutar Har, Casterfo had been a wreck last night. Of _course_ Leia had taken him under her wing -- that only made sense. It was a brutal truth that most of the newly rescued prisoners were shadows of themselves at the moment. Poe wondered how many of them were permanently damaged.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

He turned his attention back to Finn, who was still decked out in the sparkly suit he’d worn to Corellia. Undercover assignments weren’t really Poe’s thing, but it helped to have his friend along for the ride. They’d attended a swanky birthday bash in hopes of getting their hands on some crucial lists.

They now had the names and last known locations of Resistance allies and potential new leadership, all of them targets for the First Order’s campaign intended to crush opposition to its rule. 

It had been a gamble, but they’d returned with the lists, a spanking new blockade runner, and several high- profile First Order dissidents—including Leia’s old friend Senator Casterfo. Poe recalled how Leia had brightened at the possibility he was alive after all these years.

“You did a great job this morning!” Poe clapped a hand to Finn’s shoulder. He knew he could count on Finn, and Leia could count on _them._ Getting the former prisoners to the CR90 was the first item they’d crossed off today’s to- do list. “All we have to do now is see the other teams off, head to our new flagship, load up the _Falcon_, and then--"____

__

__

_ __ _

__

The truth was, nobody knew what came next. Poe, Finn, Rey, and Chewie planned to set off on the _Falcon._ Other teams were about to fan out across the galaxy in hopes of rebuilding the Resistance from its ashes.__

_ __ _

__

"Would you look at that?" Finn grinned broadly, looking for all the world like a proud parent. One of his charges - Leia‘s friend - had just sidled up to Rey at the breakfast buffet. Somebody was already starting to come out of his shell.

+

It was vaguely unsettling to be around people again. Ransolm glanced around him, noting the string of yellow lights overhead and the long tables dominating the room, some of which were already taken. Leia had suggested he get himself breakfast while she spoke with a woman named Nerfina--before her Wookiee friend took advantage of the buffet set up along the far wall.

Ransolm wasn’t sure there'd be anything left for Chewbacca. A slender girl with three looped buns in her hair was ahead of him in line, piling food onto her plate as if she never expected to see it again. That made him wonder if the girl - a pretty one, at that - had ever known starvation.

Ransolm had, though he’d been a child at the time. That wasn't the reason he and the other prisoners were so gaunt. The First Order had kept them fed; until recently it had wanted them alive. Unfortunately, digestive problems were a well-documented side effect of everything else they’d endured.

Telling himself he ought to be interested in fuelling his weakened body, Ransolm forced himself to make a few selections. He forced himself to make conversation, too. He was alive, which wasn’t a gift to be wasted. 

"Good morning," he said quietly, addressing the girl ahead of him. She was lovely. The lightsaber clipped to her belt definitely sparked his curiosity. Why did she hold herself apart from the others?

The girl glanced up at him from where she was piling poached green eggs over roasted root vegetables of some sort. 

"Hello." 

Apparently she wasn't much for conversation. She was wary, watchful, and seemed to have a lot on her mind. That made two of them.

"With three Jedi on our side, the odds are surely in our favour," Ransolm said lightly, trying to engage her in conversation.

Judging by the look on her face, he'd failed miserably. "Forgive me," Ransolm immediately apologized. "I assumed you were a Jedi, like the princess' brother, like her son. I’ve spoken carelessly." He hoped she could see his sincerity.

The hazel-eyed young woman gave a small nod but stared at him like she'd seen a ghost. For the second time in the span of a few minutes, Ransolm was sure he'd upset someone. That bothered him. He was quite surprised when she didn’t brush him off.

"You're Ransolm Casterfo?" The girl had the same accent he did.

He nodded, relieved someone hadn't prefaced it with the term 'senator'. 

"I'm Rey." She extended her hand. Ransolm stared at it for a moment before remembering himself and reaching out to take it. Stars, his basic social skills were shot to hell. 

Rey surprised him again by choosing the seat across from his when he made his way to a table. A serving droid appeared, offering juice or caf. Gatalentan tea was too much to hope for.

"There's something you need to know," Rey blurted. She hadn’t so much as picked up her cutlery.

Ransolm was appalled by his lack of tact all over again. "Again, I apologize--I saw the saber and jumped to conclusions. It was foolish of me to make assumptions."

Rey shook her head and told him to think nothing of it. That wasn’t what she wanted to say. "Luke Skywalker is gone. Nobody's told you that, have they.” Rey’s eyes darted to the princess before meeting his again.

Ransolm hadn't had the chance to discuss anything with Leia, much less anything as critical as this. "Gone--" He repeated, not understanding. Did that mean Skywalker was off on some secret mission? Rey must have read his mind.

"As in, no longer mortal. Dead." Rey stabbed a roasted potato viciously with her fork. She held the utensil awkwardly, but Ransolm wouldn't have wanted to be that potato. 

"Force, Leia..." his voice trailed off. She’d lost her twin? His eyes sought his one true friend in the universe. She was on the opposite side of the room, deep in conversation with the woman called Nerfina and not looking terribly pleased. 

"Then thank the Force we have Ben Solo on our side!” Ransolm exclaimed. “Surely he’s a Jedi by now. Tell me, are he and his father off on some sort of mission?" It had to be something perilous, from the look Leia and the Wookiee had exchanged earlier.

Rey nearly choked on her food. She stared at Ransolm with an expression he couldn’t begin to read. Ransolm decided he’d been an idiot all over again and put his fork down.

“Once again, I’ve clearly said something wrong. My sincere apologies. I have no idea where we are, what we’re up against, let alone what’s really going on.” He took a shaky breath. “The sooner all of that is made clear to me, the sooner I can start to be of use. I’m afraid I have a great deal of catching up to do.” He didn’t bother hiding his frustration.

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting your bearings? Settling in?” Rey asked cautiously. 

Casterfo’s mental state was considered precarious. Was he ready to hear any of this? She had her doubts, but she also knew how frustrating it was to have questions that people refused to answer. Something about this man told her he could handle hearing the truth sooner rather than later.

As she considered exactly how to phrase it, Ransolm was admiring the view. It dawned on him that he hadn’t done as much in years. Rey was truly lovely. She had such intelligent eyes, such a beautiful, sun-kissed complexion. What that chestnut hair would look like, cascading over her shoulders—

He stopped himself. Enough. The momentary flare of attraction he felt merely proved he wasn’t dead. If he was alive, that meant it was time to start being useful. 

Rey was still assessing him with those beautiful hazel eyes. She was spirited, he could already see that much. She tilted her head in a way that reminded him of someone else for a moment, though he couldn’t say who. 

Ignoring the rest of her breakfast, Rey decided to enlighten him: “This is all that’s left of the Resistance.” 

Ransolm didn’t mind plain speaking. Even so, he was stunned.

“This is it? Leia founded a paramilitary organization in response to what she and I uncovered years ago. I knew that much. This is all that’s left of it?” Their losses must have been staggering. “Threepio told me Greer Sonnel and Joph Seastriker helped found the Resistance, yet I don’t see them. What’s become of them?”

Rey had obviously never heard those names, which pained him.

“I have no idea who you’re talking about. I joined the Resistance very recently. The First Order was searching for a map to Luke Skywalker. It was hidden inside a droid—“ Rey stopped, almost as if she’d decided that part wasn’t important. She changed tack. “You know about the Hosnian cataclysm?” 

Ransolm blanched but nodded. The thought of it made him want to throw up. His tormentors had taken great delight in imparting that news.

“The First Order is trying to cover it up, but the Resistance destroyed Starkiller. That was the name of the super weapon responsible.”

Ransolm nodded, because he wasn’t surprised. Leia got things done, and the First Order was no doubt doing everything in its power to suppress the fact she had. Authoritarian regimes weren’t exactly known for openness.

“The Resistance suffered heavy losses going up against Starkiller. Leia did, too.” Rey glanced over in the princess’ direction. She took a deep breath before continuing. “Han Solo—he led the mission to disable the shield generator. He died on Starkiller.”

Ransolm gave sharp intake of breath. _That_ explained Leia’s conduct earlier. “He died a hero,” murmured Ransolm, imagining her devastation. “And what of their son? Ben?”__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Rey toyed with her napkin. It seemed to Ransolm that she was trying to decide what to tell him.

“Kylo Ren is the only one who can tell you what became of Ben Solo.” Her lips were a firm line.

Apparently Ben Solo was a touchy subject. Ransolm didn’t press her further and decided to change the topic. “This Kylo Ren—I’ve heard him referred to as the new Supreme Leader, and also as ‘Jedi Killer.’ Is he the one who killed Luke Skywalker?” Ransolm frowned, trying to connect the dots.

“Not exactly. But he killed Han. And he nearly killed Leia when he fired on the bridge of the Resistance flagship. Only the Force helped her survive being ejected into vacuum.” Rey took a bite of her breakfast, giving him a chance to process that.

Ransolm’s mouth was literally hanging open this time. “How is that even possible?” His eyes sought Leia once more. She was over at the buffet table with Chewbacca. “I take it that’s why she’s unwell?”

Rey nodded, thinking he must know Leia well if he could already sense what the General was taking such pains to hide. She went on to describe the regrouping on D’Qar, her search for Luke Skywalker, everything she knew of the the Resistance’s evacuation from D’Qar—until Ransolm interrupted her, incredulous: 

“Leia? Attack a dreadnaught in the midst of an evacuation? She would never risk her people at such a critical juncture!” 

Rey’s involuntary glance in Poe Dameron’s direction told Ransolm there was more to the story. He might have guessed as much. 

Rey quickly filled him in on the rest, including how the First Order had tracked them through hyperspace, the mutiny - which had him staring at Poe Dameron - and the desperate retreat to Crait. Ransolm’s mind barely registered the details concerning Ryloth or Corellia, because one thing had become abundantly clear:

The Resistance was bankrupt, completely without resources. Not only had Leia come for him, she’d risked everything doing it.

_ __ _

_ __ _

+

Finn and Poe joined them with smiles of greeting on their faces, and Rey gave the pair a radiant smile of her own. 

“Hey there!” Finn made the mistake of touching the senator without warning—and it nearly got him killed. Casterfo’s head snapped back, his arms lethal weapons. Despite his own training, Finn was left clutching his stomach on the floor behind the bench.

Casterfo took to his feet, ashen. “Forgive me! I don’t know what came over me. I should—“

“You should sit down,” said Finn, doubled over and fighting for breath as Poe helped him to his feet. He put a reassuring hand on Ransolm’s arm. “That’s what you should do, Ransolm.” It was more than obvious his response had been involuntary.

The senator was pale and shaking, so Finn went with his instincts: “You don’t want Leia to worry. Sit down, my friend.”

Poe was impressed with Finn all over again. First Order torture had apparently turned Leia’s friend into a loose cannon, but Finn had already moved past that. Poe wasn’t sure which martial art he’d just seen demonstrated. Whatever it was, it was scarily effective. Fortunately, mentioning Leia was like waving a magic wand when it came to the Senator. 

“Leia. Of course. She has worries enough as it is.” Casterfo promptly took his seat.

“You’re one of us now,” Finn reassured him.

Poe smiled, hoping Finn could tell how much he admired his handling of the situation. He had to raise an eyebrow at what Finn did next, though. His young friend had worn a special silver pin on his tie to the party on Corellia, one he’d found back on Crait. 

“I think you should have this.” Finn handed it to Senator Casterfo, who stared down at the table, presumably appalled with himself. The sight of the pin snapped him out of it. 

“The starbird,” murmured Casterfo, holding it up to examine it more closely. The starbird, sometimes called the firebird, was originally the symbol of the Rebel Alliance. Now, it was the symbol of the Resistance. “This is chalcedony.” He sounded surprised.

Poe had no idea if that was true but figured the senator would know better than he did. If so, this little pin’s owner had been wealthier than most. 

Leia joined them just as they were taking turns looking at it.

“What’s that?” Poe had no idea if she’d seen what had just happened between Finn and her old friend. If so, she was pretending she hadn’t. 

Ransolm held the starbird out for Leia’s inspection and Finn explained how he’d gotten it: “I found it on the floor of the control room on Crait. I thought it might spruce up that stylish First Order prison wear of Ransolm’s,” Finn quipped. 

The others grinned, but Leia held the pin in the palm of her hand and had gone very still. She was smiling—which was confusing, for she looked like she was about to cry at the same time. 

”You say you found this on Crait?” Leia was positively beaming, as though the sun had come out from behind the darkest of clouds. 

“I did.”

“You’re right, Finn. I can’t think of a better person to carry on my father’s legacy.” She handed the chalcedony pin right back to Ransolm Casterfo. “Don’t even think about taking it off,” Leia warned him, still looking very pleased.

“Does that mean you recognize it?” She must. Rey and Poe were drawing blanks along with him, but somebody was keeping up:

“You mean to tell me this was your father’s? This actually belonged to Bail Organa?” asked Ransolm softly. 

Leia nodded. Ransolm was clearly moved when she took it from him and clipped it into place. The chalcedony starbird of freedom was now on the breast pocket of his dull, prison-issue jumpsuit. 

From the look on his face, he never wanted to take it off.

+

It was time to go.

Poe wasn’t sorry to see the last of the Collective. He couldn’t believe they’d made off with every last credit the Resistance had to its name. One half had gone to the list, which they’d expected—a major part of the reason they’d gone to Corellia to begin with.

The other half had been demanded in return for emergency safe haven, not that they’d been welcome for longer than a day. True, the Collective had thrown in a few med droids and a whole lot of fuel and provisions. That didn’t mean the bargain felt fair, but Leia had warned him to hold his tongue. Hold it, he had.

_ __ _

_ __ _

That didn’t mean he didn’t want to tell the whole lot of them off, especially Nerfina. It was hard to feel a whole lot of sympathy for someone so rigid and uncompromising, newly widowed or not. She knew they were beyond desperate.

They’d saved her, and this was her idea of thanks? How else would she have escaped the First Order’s attack on her ridiculously extravagant birthday party? She wasn’t wearing a live eel around her neck this morning, but Maz had been right about Nerfina’s total lack of charm. 

Yes, the Collective had helped the Resistance. Did that mean it had the right to ruin them? As he watched Finn slip out the door, Poe wanted to tell Nerfina exactly where to shove it. Leia’s direct order was all that held him back.

He, Leia and her old friend the senator were last to leave. Leia’d kept Ransolm glued to her elbow all morning; he seemed to cope better that way. That didn’t mean he’d said a word since breakfast. 

Finn had lost all interest in chatting up Nerfina and stood watch in the alleyway. Poe congratulated himself on having made it through a polite enough goodbye; Leia gave him a subtle _look,_ enough to tell him she was pleased he’d restrained himself.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

White-shrouded members of the Collective stood guard from atop piles of crates as Leia made her own farewells to the tall woman who held the Collective’s purse-strings. She and Ransolm were just about to step out the doorway when the ex-senator surprised them all.

Casterfo stepped away from Leia, making his way to Nerfina and thanking her for her hospitality with warmth and charm. Pleased, Nerfina extended her hand, which Ransolm bowed over and kissed. Of all things. 

Poe wanted to roll his eyes, but Nerfina looked delighted. 

“I am sorry for your loss.” Ransolm’s condolences were sincere, but he was only getting started: “Rest assured that I shall never forget your birthday.” He gave the odious woman another charming smile. “It will forever coincide with the day I was granted my freedom. There is nothing more precious— except perhaps life itself.”

Nerfina smiled back. She obviously enjoyed being fawned over. 

Only Casterfo wasn’t fawning at all, even if he was holding her fingers and smiling agreeably. ”I owe my life and my freedom to the courage and selflessness of others.” Cracked and hoarse as it was, his voice rang out. The white-shrouded figures standing guard atop the crates shifted uneasily, for the courage he referred to plainly wasn't theirs.

“Strict adherence to principle can be dangerous; I know that better than most. Your own has weakened all that stands between you and an authoritarian regime more brutal than you have any concept of.” Then Casterfo lowered his voice, and his smile belied his tone. “If you do not oppose the First Order, you might as well embrace it.” 

_ _ He held her eyes as he released her hand. Nerfina’s went to her heart. __

_ _ “I expect you will come to regret your actions,” murmured Ransolm. Then he gave her another bow—the barest hint of one. “Until we meet again.” There was steel behind his smile as Casterfo turned on his heel. Placing a hand at Leia’s back, he flashed Nerfina a pitying look and escorted General Organa out the door._ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

Poe bit back a smile of his own as they left the Collective behind. Loose cannons sometimes had pretty decent aim.

+


	4. Chapter 4

+

"Aurodium."

Rieekan paused mid-sentence at Casterfo’s interruption. Safely aboard the Corellian blockade-runner, they were in the middle of discussing how best to secure funds before Poe's team left on the _Falcon.___

_ __ _

_ __ _

Apparently, somebody thought it was an appropriate time to discuss Leia's jewellery instead. Not only that, the senator had General Organa's full attention.

"Your earrings," he said softly, apologizing for his interruption. "I don't recall seeing them before. Have you worn them publicly?"

Leia understood at once, not that the rest of them did. She sighed, fingering the earrings in question. "You're right. They're worth a small fortune. Enough to see us through until we secure other funds." She eyed her bracelet and rings.

"Not the Oro-weave," advised Ransolm. "It's stunning, but I remember it. Chances are others would as well, along with your signets. We can’t risk having them traced."

Leia nodded her agreement. "So it’s back to selling my jewellery," she smiled wryly. "Not that I haven't done it before."

Rieekan exchanged glances with Orrimaarko and Poe Dameron. As it turned out, the senator hadn't been off-topic at all.

"You wouldn't need to sell them—not necessarily," Ransolm began. Leia narrowed her eyes and listened. “Whatever became of Rinnriven Di's operations on Bastatha? We're not far from there, if I understand correctly." A hint of a smile played across his features.

A sly grin stole over Leia's face the moment she understood. "Who's the bad influence this time, Casterfo?"

Rieekan and the others looked at the two old friends as if they'd lost their minds--a distinct possibility in Casterfo's case. 

Poe opened his mouth and shut it again, because Leia was grinning conspiratorially at Ransolm Casterfo, her face bright enough to chase away thunderclouds. In fact, she looked ready to burst out laughing. So did he.

"What's the plan, General?" Poe finally asked. Apparently they had one.

"We're heading to Bastatha to secure the funds we need, Commander Dameron." A giggle bubbled up as Leia wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Whatever the joke was, it had Leia's shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter. Poe spotted a glint of mischief in Casterfo's eyes. 

Then Leia stopped laughing and was all business again. "I'll need an escort for this mission, Ransolm. You’re it." 

"I'm in no shape to be of use to anyone--"

Leia waved off his sputters of protest. Ransolm was a torture victim. She’d been one herself, decades ago. There was no opportunity to get him proper treatment, so he needed a purpose--preferably right away. Blowing up the Death Star had been hers.

"Nonsense. Besides, you bring me luck." Wedge Antilles told her that Ransolm's first words back on Corellia had been that his name was nothing but a curse, a bad omen. 

The hell it was.

A throat cleared. Poe was still confused.

Leia stood up to signal that the meeting was over. "We're about to stake my earrings at the casino on Bastatha," she explained, as if that were the most sensible course of action she'd ever proposed in her life. "And first, we raid the _Falcon_ for decent disguises."__

_ __ _

_ __ _

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \+ 
> 
> Princess Leia grinned at him; the sunset painted her white gown nearly gold. “I think you’re developing a taste for action.”
> 
> He leaned forward, smiling conspiratorially. “You’re a bad influence.”
> 
> That made her laugh out loud. “Do you know, that’s the best compliment anyone has paid me in a long time?”
> 
> “Then you aren’t being paid enough compliments.”
> 
> ~Leia and Ransolm, ‘Bloodline’ (p. 141)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +
> 
> This chapter includes passing references to physical/psychological trauma, because ‘Resistance Reborn’ makes it very clear that the political prisoners the Resistance rescues from Corellia are torture victims.

+

"Here Chewie. Hand this up and say it's for Hevasi."

Leia and Chewbacca were sorting through one of the Falcon's sensor-shielded smuggling compartments, which had escaped being pillaged by Unkar Plutt or anyone else on account of the ingenious modifications Han and his first mate had come up with over the years.

Leia had just discovered the outfit she'd worn on Cloud City decades ago, a flowing, cinnamon-coloured number with a gorgeous, champagne-coloured cape. She'd always loved the detailing on the back. Too bad she'd always had to look in a mirror to appreciate it. 

Neither fit her now, and there was no point in letting perfectly good clothing moulder away in the belly of anybody's ship when someone like Hevasi Joy could use it. Hevasi was a tiny little thing, every bit as petite as Leia had been. She was apparently a famous pop star—Leia had heard the name, not that she could claim to be familiar with her music. What the princess _could_ appreciate was that the young woman had been arrested for speaking out against the Hosnian cataclysm. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

The First Order hadn't had her in its clutches long, but they hadn't wasted any time trying to break her. Judging from the way Hevasi clung to Rose and seemed to shrink away from most of the men, Leia didn't have trouble imagining what some of that might have included. 

Angered all over again, Leia rummaged through another section of the storage locker, pulling out cloaks, shirts, trousers, and whatever else she thought might suit the newly freed prisoners or make a good disguise for the mission to Bastatha. 

The sooner their new arrivals had the option of ditching their jumpsuits, the better. Kaydel and Finn had cleverly fashioned makeshift starbird patches in the meantime. Force knew where either of them had picked up sewing skills, because they’d done it without the help of droids.

She handed Chewie a helmet that would probably do well enough for Ransolm, leaving several others for Poe, Rey and Finn. Who knew what they’d need in the months to come? Since all of them were on the First Order's most wanted list, having to cover their faces from time to time was inevitable. Thankfully, the Falcon was a treasure trove of odds and ends.

"This is so pretty!" Rose exclaimed from somewhere above the compartment where Leia and Chewie were sorting through clothing and sundries. Leia guessed she was admiring the Bespin cape. 

Leia could hear people’s voices, but her thoughts took her elsewhere when she came to a familiar wine-coloured cloak and an elegant black tunic cut in the Alderaanian style.

Barely twenty, lean and lanky, already so tall—Ben had looked handsome wearing this--

Leia chased the memory away, holding the tunic up to assess its condition. It was no use; tears pricked at her eyes as she remembered the occasion.

A warm paw on her shoulder brought Leia back to the present. "Here, Chewie. These might fit Ransolm." Leia had no idea how tall Ben had grown by now. He’d filled out from what little she’d seen on Crait, so it wasn’t as though these clothes would ever be of use to him again—which seemed a foolish thought, given everything else he’d become. Ransolm was gaunt enough to wear them now, and that upset her all over again.

More cloaks. How many cloaks could one storage locker hold? Belts, shoes, boots, socks....Leia handed most of them to Chewie. The Resistance had nothing, but this was something. Something might even fit the grav-ball player.

She came to a case tucked into a corner of one of the bins. Han must have taken it when he’d left. In it were holos of she and Han and Ben and Luke, all taken in happier times. Leia slipped the cube into the pocket of her cloak.

A hat designed to mimic an alien's elongated cranium, a sparkly blue cape, all sorts of gloves--stars, what did they _not_ have in here? She fished out a few things for herself, including a couple of pairs of boots and a utilitarian vest, one with plenty of pockets. A hairbrush would have been nice. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

At last she came to a long, dark green jacket. She'd bought it because she'd liked it, even though it hadn't suited Han. That he’d never actually worn it was understandable. Ransolm was more or less the same height as Han had been, so he might as well try it on. Leia handed the jacket, shirt and the rest of the outfit to Chewie, blinking away more tears. 

+

"Thank you, that will be all for tonight." Leia stood up from behind the conference table, and Rieekan, Orrimaarko, Yendor and Poe did the same. There was only so much that anyone could accomplish in a day. They’d done plenty.

After organizing two separate missions and provisioning them, they’d seen Wedge, Norra, Snap and the second team off. After leaving the Collective safe house, they’d plotted and planned, set course for Bastatha, decided on three more objectives...all of which left Leia completely exhausted. 

If it were up to Threepio, Leia would have been in bed hours ago. Come to think of it, she probably should have been. All this, and she still hadn't caught up with Ransolm. In truth, that was more important to her than anything else right now.

She swayed as a wave of dizziness hit her, recalling the med droid's warning about overtaxing herself. 

"Leia?" Poe had stayed behind.

"Poe--thank you. You've taken a lot off my shoulders." She smiled, equal parts warmth and weariness.

"About Bastatha, General—" 

It was General, again? With nobody else around? Leia knew what that meant. “I take it you have concerns?"

"I do.” Gambling seemed reckless to Poe, and gambling with Leia’s life sounded even worse. “Casterfo is right. He’s in no condition to protect you. He's in no shape to be of use to anyone!"

Leia's lips thinned. "Obviously. Which is why he’s arranged for Charth to accompany us. I’ll fill you in on the details tomorrow, because the two of them are still fine-tuning the plan. Better safe than sorry. Feel better?” Charth was a courageous Twi’lek who’d just thrown his lot in with the Resistance.

"Charth? We barely know him--"

_“You_ barely know him, is what you mean to say. I don’t either, but he's Yendor's son and that’s enough for me. What’s more, he's just lost his sister. He needs to be _doing_ something. He has a cool head, he's definitely good in a fight--"____

__

__

_ __ _

_ __ _

"What if Casterfo snaps? What then?“ Poe couldn’t help himself. “Have you looked at his file? He’s a walking—“

"What file?" interrupted Leia sharply.

"It’s attached to the original list. What they’ve done to Senator Casterfo is enough to make anyone lose it! Beatings, isolation, sleep deprivation, sensory overload—“ 

There was more, some of which Poe could barely bring himself to say out loud. “Along with the treatment you might expect, there were.. forced drug injections, sexual assault...even mock executions--" 

_ __ _

_ __ _

"Enough!” Leia wanted to throw up. “Since when did any of this become your business?" 

_ __ _

_ __ _

“I need to know the mental state of the people I’m in charge of!” Poe hated upsetting her but needed to make his point. Leia’s safety was of paramount importance to everyone, for what was the Resistance without her? “He's agreed that it's best he stays behind. I'm going in his place." Poe intended to protect his General if he died trying.

"Ransolm Casterfo is _not_ under your command!” Leia whispered. “He’s not under anyone’s.” She made a mental note to have Threepio see that the files in question were no longer accessible to anyone but med staff, and Poe understood something he hadn’t before.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Leia sighed, looking away for a moment before continuing.“Tell me, when did you and Ransolm have this discussion?” 

"When you and Chewie were sorting through the gear on the Falcon."

She glanced away again. To Poe’s alarm, she grew pale and started swaying on her feet. Poe reached for her, but Leia was in no mood to be rescued and swatted his hand away in irritation.

“Leia, he’s a good guy, I know he's your friend, but he jumped at the chance to stay behind.”

"And whose idea was _that?_"__

_ __ _

_ __ _

"Mine," Poe admitted. "And he didn't disagree. He's no fool, he's—

"Coming with me to Bastatha!” she snapped. “And you’re welcome to come too, if you feel that Charth isn't enough of a security detail. Bring a whole army if you feel like it!” 

They didn’t have one, of course. Leia’s arms were crossed to indicate the discussion was over. 

Poe nodded. It would have to be enough. Leia fixed him with a steely gaze that brooked no argument: 

“I suggest you find Ransolm Casterfo and convince him he’s an invaluable part of tomorrow’s mission. Have I made myself clear, Commander Dameron?" 

Poe wanted to comfort her, but there was no doubt in his mind as to how that would go over. He settled for nodding.

+

There was a soft tap at her door.

Poe again, probably. It hadn’t been more than a few minutes. Leia sighed, setting down her mug. She’d been hoping to make some tea, knowing she needed to compose herself before going in search of Ransolm. Poe’s report had left her shaken. It felt all wrong that they still hadn’t talked.

Every last one of the newly rescued prisoners was at risk of depression, hopelessness, intense anxiety—and she’d seen enough of Ransolm to know that those applied to him. Self-harm remained a distinct possibility, along with losing a grip on reality. 

The med droids hadn’t had the chance to check Ransolm over for the probable hypertension, migraines, heart palpitations or dizziness. Leia had committed the side effects of torture to memory. That didn’t mean she’d wanted to have the causes of Ransolm’s spelled out for her like Poe had just seen fit to do. Seeing her friend so altered was difficult enough.

"Come in," she called, trying not to sound as angry as she felt.

Leia’s anger melted away when she saw that her visitor was Ransolm.

He looked as tired as she felt, but it was unbelievably good to see him. “Commander Dameron asked me to speak to you about our mission tomorrow,” he began.

"Never mind the details, we have plenty of time go over those tomorrow when I can think straight. You’re a sight for sore eyes, Ransolm Casterfo.” Leia clasped both of his hands in hers as she invited him in. “Your timing couldn’t be better. I was just about to make myself some tea. Care to join me?” She guided him to the only chair in her cabin.

“Am I dreaming, or is that Gatalentan?” Ransolm’s sad smile became hopeful. Leia immediately found another mug.

"It’s ridiculous that it’s taken us this long to find a moment to ourselves.” She shook her head as she poured the tea, remembering how he liked his.

“Occupational hazard?”

“Definitely. Plenty of time to consider changing that occupation—in your case, that is. Just because we’ve rescued you doesn’t mean you owe us anything.” Leia handed him his mug of tea. “You’re always free to leave.” 

He raised an eyebrow, faintly amused.“You already know that I won’t.”

There was another, unintended side effect of torture. Survivors often became more committed to whatever cause they’d suffered for. Leia took a sip of her tea. “Does that mean I get to say ‘I told you so’?”

“I suppose it does,” he said softly. “Imagine, history has repeated itself— another authoritarian regime, another rebellion—but this time, here I am.” 

His eyes held hers. Apparently, Ransolm remembered exactly what she’d told him as they’d dragged him away in that hangar bay on Hosnian Prime. 

Leia was sure he would have sided with the Rebellion years ago, not with the Empire. Ransolm hadn’t been so sure. He’d been too young to do either, of course. 

She knew how seriously he’d come to doubt his judgment after betraying her, and after the shock of learning that so many of his Centrist colleagues yearned for a return to Imperial rule. Some had even been First Order supporters. Leia smiled, relieved there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with his memory. 

His expression grew sympathetic, enough to bring tears to Leia’s eyes. There’d been plenty of those today, with Chewie the only witness to the first round. Crying wasn’t really Leia’s style, but everything was different now...and her hand started shaking so badly she had to set her tea down. This man knew her so well.

“You don’t need to ask about Han any more, do you.” It wasn’t a question. Somehow he’d found out— that was just like him. Did he know the rest? Surely not. But Ransolm was her confidant again, her only confidant now, and so she told him the truth without preamble: 

“Ben killed his father, he ran him through with a saber. They were standing face to face, as close to each other as you and I are now.” She took a shaky breath.

“Leia!” He got to his feet, shocked, instinctively stepping closer.

“It’s far from common knowledge, but my son calls himself Kylo Ren.”

Ransolm was dumbfounded, especially when Leia threw her arms around his waist. She shocked him again by starting to weep. This wasn’t the Leia he remembered, the unstoppable, the indefatigable—-

He wasn’t used to touching anyone, especially not after so many years in the First Order’s clutches, but this was his one true friend, the one who’d literally saved him when he’d lost all hope. As surreal as it felt to be doing it, Ransolm hugged Leia in return, stiffly at first, but then as warmly as he’d ever embraced a living soul. 

Both of them were crying by then; for all they had suffered, all they had lost, and finally, all that they hadn’t after all.

Drying her eyes, Leia asked him to stay. It went without saying that she only meant to sleep. It went without saying why she was asking him to begin with.

“I appreciate the thought. I’m not sure that it’s wise.” His voice still sounded strange, hoarse, the product of years of silence and screams. “I’ll wake in the night—“

“And I’ll be here if you do,” she assured him. 

+


	6. Chapter 6

+

"This is more than a little reckless.” Ransolm’s helmet hid the twinkle in his eyes but none of his amusement.

"And it was all your idea," Leia shot back with a grin. The lights were dim, the crush of people in the casino nearly overwhelming, and she hadn't had this much fun in ages.

"Agreed. But you had plenty of opportunity to be the voice of reason. Whatever happened to being older and wiser?”

Leia rolled her eyes. “You’re hardly a green idiot.” Ransolm muttered something about colour in relation to general idiocy as he handed her the drink she’d asked him to get.

His hand was at Leia's back; he was supposed to be keeping it there. Reading his facial expressions was impossible through the mask he wore, so they'd settled on a series of hand signals and touches in order to communicate in the din of the casino.

Leia had just cleaned up at one of the regular Sabacc tables after staking her aurodium earrings to get in on the action. Earrings back in place, celebratory libation in hand—hers, anyway, because Ransolm wasn't going to take off his mask for anything—they were making their way to a table reserved for high rollers.

Ransolm couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at Leia’s choice of beverage, not that she could see it. "Riosan mead? I could have sworn you despised it."

Time to confess: “Truth be told, I've always enjoyed it. Not that I'd have given you the satisfaction of knowing as much back then!” Leia pictured him smirking under that helmet of his.

To say that they’d gotten off to a rocky start years ago was an understatement. The last thing she’d have done was admit that she cared for anything from Senator Casterfo’s homeworld. Laughter bubbled up at the memory; a fine pair of diplomats they’d been.

Ransolm traced a line from left to right on Leia's back, meant to draw her attention to Charth's location at the long bar against the far wall. Poe and Finn were temporarily out of sight in the crowd. Her sight, anyway.

She hoped Finn wasn’t gaping at the beings on the upper balcony. A very green Ransolm had done the same the first time he and Leia visited Bastatha. With any luck, Poe had filled him in on why that wasn’t a good idea.

Leia acknowledged Ransolm's signal with a slight smile. "About time you did that. Remember, you're not supposed to be able to keep your hands off me."

"That won't be difficult!" Ransolm teased. "You do look rather fetching."

"Who knew your taste ran to tacky blue sequins?” Leia had to smile again and shook her head. Blue was nice; her costume was not. “Still don’t think I’ve heard enough compliments? Or are you pretending to flirt?"

"Surely you know me better than that!” Ransolm laughed. “At least tell me you're enjoying being somewhat less vertically challenged." 

She was. He knew perfectly well she considered it the best part of her disguise. The high-heeled platform boots Leia wore under her garish evening wear gained her several inches—enough for her to see over more than one head for a change. A sparkling headpiece meant to suggest the high cranium of an alien humanoid species added to the illusion of height. 

Princess Leia of Alderaan was famously short, so appearing taller was a good idea. The copious quantities of sequins and face paint Hevasi Joy had cunningly applied meant that her disguise wasn’t half bad.

As for Ransolm, no one was going to ask him to take off his helmet—not with an air filter attached to it. That was considered beyond rude. 

He cut a fine figure in Trellgar silk and that wine-coloured cape. A pair of black gloves hid the colour of his skin, and Force knew where he’d gotten his hands on Ronto-hide boots. Were those Yendor’s?

She’d felt a twinge of sadness when she saw how little joy Ransolm had gotten from polishing himself up like the rest of the casino team. That wasn’t the young man she remembered. Unlike Finn, Poe, or even Charth, who were still in their party clothes from Corellia, Ransolm hadn’t bothered looking in the mirror.

That bothered her. "Handsome Ransolm," Leia said lightly. “Don’t look so shocked! It’s the only thing that rhymes with ‘Ransolm’, and it’s still true.”

That caught him off guard. "Who's flirting now?" he muttered, flushing under his helmet. 

"I am,” she informed him. “True flirtation is to meant brighten someone's day. Whether or not you meet them again is of no consequence."

"It seems you're stuck with me." 

"I hope so." Leia patted his arm as she took her place at the table to play for significantly higher stakes. 

+

An hour later, a triumphant Leia threw her arms around Ransolm’s neck. He chuckled through his voice modulator, warning her not get carried away with buying drinks for the whole casino --this time. 

Leia did treat everyone whose pockets she’d just lightened, but flounced away in her alarming blue sequins to collect the all-important credits before the beverages arrived. Best to depart quickly, given what she’d just managed.

Credits in hand, the two former senators acted the part of a couple stunned by good fortune and eager to get to the privacy of their ship to celebrate, with Poe and Finn running point ahead of them. Yendor would have kept the shuttle ready to take off at a moment’s notice. Fortunately, arrivals and departures to this particular spaceport didn’t involve red tape, part of what made it ideal for this mission.

Leia was caught off guard when Ransolm abruptly let go of her hand. Without so much as a word, he vanished into the crowd.

Leia knew better than to stop walking. Charth was behind them somewhere, and their objective was to secure the credits they needed so desperately. They’d reached the docking bays reserved for casino patrons. Why had Ransolm disappeared?

He wasn't gone long, materializing a few minutes later with Charth at his side. The plain white carton in his hands piqued Leia's curiosity.

The team boarded without incident and the ship departed. Ransolm pulled off his helmet and shook out his hair, grinning at Leia, who beamed right back. Finn and Poe clapped each other on the shoulder, trading notes on the more colourful beings who'd caught their attention. With Charth strapped into the co-pilots’s chair, Yendor sent them into the safety of hyperspace without delay. 

Ransolm handed Leia the plain white box. As it turned out, he'd done nothing more alarming than buy a box of pastries from a vendor near the docking bays—not that it would help them beat the First Order. It probably ranked as the most normal thing he’d done in years. 

Enough buttersweet puffs for all, including everyone aboard the CR90? Sad that a single carton was all it took to manage it. On the other hand, the thought was priceless. 

“Do you know the last time I tasted one of these?” Leia’s eyes sparkled as she bit into her puff. “It was on Hosnian Prime, when you showed up at my door after the Senate bombing.” She nudged Ransolm’s boot with her own. 

“The one you were framed for?” Finn asked Ransolm. Finn had never tried a buttersweet puff in his life and had just discovered something he wished he’d met earlier.

“The very one.” Leia confirmed, for Ransolm hadn’t answered. He didn't care to be reminded that Leia might have died in that attack.

Charth filled the silence by piping up that it had actually been Ransolm who’d helped his badly injured mother to the med centre in the wake of the bombing years ago. He and Yendor had thanked him for that kindness the other night.

“Quite the coincidence,” laughed Poe, slinging his arm around Finn’s shoulder.

With the tension of the mission over, the banter started up again. Poe found himself watching Leia and Ransolm for the remainder of the journey back to their new command ship. The former colleagues exchanged comments that had everyone in stitches, especially each other. 

Who knew Leia Organa was so wickedly funny? It occurred to Poe that he’d never seen her so bright, so alive—not in all the time he’d known her.

That, he decided, was no coincidence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +
> 
> In ‘Bloodline’, Ransolm shows up at Leia’s door in the aftermath of the senate bombing bearing a carton of buttersweet puffs. She jokes it’s her ‘best gift ever.’ He is the only person who takes the time to call on her during her recovery.
> 
> Their common interests constantly draw them together, and by the time of the betrayal they are pretty much inseparable.
> 
> By contrast, Han’s long absences are keenly felt in ‘Bloodline’. He and Leia love each other dearly but are apart all too often. That certainly helps set up what we see onscreen in TFA. 
> 
> When Leia is seriously injured in the senate bombing, Han asks her if she wants him to come to Hosnian Prime. Her response? No, of course. She doesn’t want him to have to leave a famous race he’s an important part of. 
> 
> Small wonder she and Ransolm become confidants.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This is a bleak chapter. Mentions of torture figure prominently in several new canon SW novels and I’ve researched common side effects.

+

Leia smiled to herself. She’d been having the most wonderful dream. It was comforting to lie here, listening to the quiet hum of a reliable ship's engines. She knew that sound so well, this vessel had always felt like home, she'd--

Her eyes snapped open.

This wasn't the _Tantive IV_ at all— that was decades ago. And what was she doing lying in a medbay?__

_ __ _

_ __ _

No sooner had that thought crossed her mind than a med droid whirred over to assess her vital signs in predictably capable fashion.

Leia sat up. "I'm not dead yet!" Her tone was wasted on the droid, which began rattling off a series of reassuring phrases and totally ignoring her pointed questions as to what her vitals actually were.

Not that Leia needed confirmation, because her head felt like it was splitting open and she might as well have been run over by a Mudhorn. That, of course, was immaterial. She sighed, about to ask the droid to comm Poe Dameron.

He must have left instructions to be informed when she came to, because he was there before she called for him looking immensely relieved. Her second in command ran a hand through those curls of his as she beckoned for him to come closer.

"I don't bite. You know that by now."

"General." Dameron nodded, giving her a tentative smile. 

It was ‘General’ again? There was no one else around, so Leia reached for his hand. Poe took it. What had him so keyed up? Then again, the Resistance was on the run with next to nothing. They’d narrowly escaped obliteration by the skin of their teeth on Ryloth and Corellia. What wouldn't?

“Spit it out,” she sighed. “I don’t remember anything after stepping through the docking ring with a pocket full of credits, and it’s not because I ate too many pastries. Let me guess—I collapsed?”

The droids had warned this sort of thing might happen while she was recovering. Leia wasn't sure a true recovery was possible, but had decided against pointing that out to anyone. What relevant experience could medical droids actually have? Surviving the vacuum of space was unprecedented, a hard fact everybody tiptoed around.

"Report, Commander. And tell me, how long was I out?”

Leia leaned back on her pallet but hung onto Poe’s hand - Force knew that Dameron looked like he could use reassurance.

Poe cleared his throat and tried acting as if it were the most natural thing in the world to brief his General as she lay in a medbay. "Twelve hours. Long enough for Chewie, Rey and Charth to locate and secure the most essential of the materiel we require." 

Sensor-baffling netting for starters, enough to hide this small capital ship once they reached Ajan Kloss. The First Order was sure to be combing the galaxy for it, so the sooner they went to ground, the better. Fortunately Chewie had contacts.

"The run was uneventful and they’ve just returned."

"That's good news." Leia released his hand. They had a few more ships, enough credits to scrape by for months and, most importantly, hope. She listened attentively to Poe’s reports from their other teams.

"Sounds like everything’s under control. Is there anything else I need to know? I plan on taking another nap, since everything’s in your perfectly capable hands.”

Poe shook his head and showed every sign of wanting to escape. That was unlike him, and Leia wondered why. “Would you mind asking Ransolm to pop in?” she asked instead. 

A muscle twitched in Poe’s jaw. 

“What is it?” 

“He’s resting.” Poe said it little too quickly. 

Leia pursed her lips. Was he seriously trying to pull the gaberwool over her eyes? 

Poe did his best to sound reassuring. “It’s understandable, Leia. He’s been through a lot.” Force knew how, but she knew there was more. Poe’s shoulders sagged. He’d wanted to spare her this. “He’s been sedated. Only as a precaution—“

“Why? Has he hurt someone?” 

So she’d known about the incident with Finn. Poe shook his head. “It’s better for him this way.”

“What do you mean?” Leia sat bolt upright, gaze sharp and tone sharper.

She startled him by swinging her legs over the edge of the pallet, determined to stand up. That left Poe with no choice but to support her as she reached for her cane. She’d done without it for the casino venture, leaning on her friend instead.

“What are you doing, Leia?” 

She ignored Poe’s question and started marching to the door. Dameron was reminded that Leia Organa was very familiar with the layout of a CR90.

\+ 

“Binders? You mean to tell me that you’ve put this man in _binders?”_ Leia was aghast. Ransolm lay in a white gown identical to hers, restraints affixed to both of his painfully thin wrists. Her head started spinning but she ignored it, sinking into the chair beside her friend’s pallet. His eyes were closed and he was oblivious to her presence. Leia bowed her head, and Poe’s heart sank. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

Surely she understood the implications. “We don’t have the resources to keep him safe. He’s not well. He—“

“I don’t want to hear it!” Leia held up a hand. She reached for Ransolm’s, quietly ordering the medical droid to remove the binders. “He can’t be wearing these when he wakes up.”

“We can’t spare anyone to supervise him constantly,” Finn reminded her gently. He’d been next door with another of the struggling newcomers.

Leia closed her eyes and took several calming breaths before speaking again. “These cuffs are to be removed. See to it.” The med droid was forced to comply with that order. 

Leia gave Poe a look he knew too well. “You have everything well in hand, Commander Dameron. Since you’ve already told me that nothing requires my attention, I will see to this situation. Personally.”

Poe and Finn exchanged cautious glances. 

Before either of them could protest, Chewbacca strode through the door with Threepio in tow. That struck Leia as perfect timing. As Han’s best friend leaned down to envelop her in an amazingly comforting Wookiee hug, Leia made up her mind.

“Chewie, could you pick him up for me?” 

Chewbacca knew better than to argue when Leia had that set to her chin. He gently scooped Casterfo up, blanket and all, and waited to follow the princess’ lead.

Leia began walking rather imperiously in the direction of what would have been her stateroom suite aboard the Alderaaanian consular vessel _Tantive IV._

_ _ +_ _


	8. Chapter 8

+

Where was he? Space was cold but he was warm. Ransolm blinked, bewildered by the presence of the tiny person snuggled up against him. Force alive, it was _Leia_. Fast asleep on--where was he? In a suite of some sort?__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Ransolm started to sit up but thought better of it when Leia shifted in his arms, burrowing against him in her sleep. He pulled the blanket more closely around her shoulders with his free hand. They were lying on a divan. Together.

Was he completely delusional? If he was honest with himself, everything had felt surreal since his rescue. The important thing was that the princess was alive—-or had he lost his sanity entirely?

He closed his eyes again, concentrating on breathing deeply, on reducing his heart rate. It never failed to race when he first woke up. That was a product of the last six years of his existence.

Finally confident he wasn't imagining anything, Ransolm studied his surroundings. 

He'd been in similar suites before aboard other CR90s. They were favoured by many of his former senate colleagues, not that Riosa had been wealthy enough for him to justify the purchase of one for himself. That was why he recognised the layout. Why change what worked? The manufacturer had made a fortune selling these versatile ships.

The standard model came with plenty of firepower and enough speed to outrun anything it couldn't outshoot. This one looked to be kitted out as nicely as any other he'd been entertained in, and he wondered who it had been meant for before the Resistance had stolen it.

Leia shifted in his arms again, and now he could feel her breath against his arm. 

He'd hurt her all over again. He'd known she wasn't well, even if she tried to hide as much from the others. How could he have suggested the mission to Bastatha? He’d bungled her ‘rescue’ years ago. Now, he was giving Leia cause to regret saving _him._ Truth be told, he thought his foolishness had killed her.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

The familiar starlines of hyperspace streaked past the chamber's expansive viewport. No one saw the tears that streaked Ransolm’s face.

+


	9. Chapter 9

+

“Good morning, everyone. Why the long faces?"

Leia swept through the door of the conference room. In a combat vest and a crown of braids, it was impossible to believe she’d been in a medbay hours earlier. She looked more likely to conquer the galaxy. 

Casterfo was right beside her, smartly turned out in a long green coat. He nodded to the room in general before pulling out a chair for Leia and taking his own seat.

Poe raised his eyebrows at that, but Leia didn't seem to think anything of it. "Bad news, General.” He wished he could tell her something good. “We can't risk landing this ship on Ajan Kloss after all.”

"We know the First Order has made tremendous advances in tracking technology,” Rose explained. “This vessel is too big to go over quickly enough to ensure that it won’t be tracked to the very place we want to keep secret."

Leia nodded. "That only makes sense. The _Falcon_ goes to Ajan Kloss, then. We use it to establish a secure base of operations. Alternatives?"__

_ __ _

__

Yendor spoke up: "This old man has taken a shine to this very new ship." Yendor patted the conference table as fondly as if it were the helm. "I'd hate to ditch it entirely, especially when it may prove clean in time. We can work on that. I don't mind being a decoy in the meantime. Not even a sitting duck." _Or a pain in the neck to the First Order,_ smiled Leia to herself.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

"I'm an old relic myself," Rieekan joked. It was amazing that any of them could. "Splitting up is strategically wise. This ship can act as a support vessel for the other teams, now that we have sufficient fuel and supplies. It never needs to head to Ajan Kloss at all. I’ll join you, Yendor."

Orrimaarko said the same, which meant three people were willing to stay aboard the CR90.

“General!” Connix rushed into the conference room, flushed and out of breath. "We've got survivors!" 

+

One shuttle.

It hadn't headed for Crait at all, and in the confusion its trajectory hadn't been noted by the First Order. 

The CR90s comm equipment picked up a signal the _Falcon's_ damaged systems weren’t able to. Out of fuel, they’d been adrift for two days and relying on life support. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Who?” Leia breathed, at the same time Poe said, “Impossible!”

“Nothing is ever impossible,” whispered Rey. Finn’s eyes met hers across the table. 

The _Falcon_ was immediately dispatched with fuel and emergency kits, and before long that shuttle was docking with the CR90.__

_ __ _

__

+

“I’m sorry to have missed you on Corellia. Especially you, Commander Dameron.” Maz Kanata’s holo gave Poe a bold wink but addressed Leia when she next spoke. 

General Organa stood in the holo field with Poe, Finn, Ransolm and Rey, the only people in the control room at the moment. The rest were still celebrating the surprise recovery of Dr. Kalonia and the others.

“Your Commander cleans up nicely, Princess. I can’t say I mind the rest of the scenery either.” 

Leia’s lips thinned at Maz’s deliberate use of that title, and she crossed her arms when the pirate queen swept an appreciative glance over Finn as well. Maz stopped short of doing the same to Ransolm.

“If Poe Dameron in a suit won’t bring you our way, will anything?” Leia didn’t bother hiding her sarcasm. She was fed up with Maz’s repeated refusals to commit to the Resistance.

“Patience, Princess. All in good time. And as for Dameron—you may want to send him _my_ way.”__

_ __ _

_ __ _

“And why is that?” Leia pursed her lips. Maz Kanata never changed.

“Despite her own lack of charm, Nerfina Shu was apparently charmed enough by someone else to express an interest in returning half the credits the Collective ‘collected‘ from the Resistance—that’s why.” Maz kept her expression neutral but watched Casterfo’s reaction carefully. 

Poe’s was infinitely more rewarding. 

“Where are you, Maz?” Flyboy looked ready to hop in a ship then and there. 

A slow smile spread over Maz’s face. “Same place I was last time, handsome. Make sure to wear the suit.” She winked again.

Leia rolled her eyes as the transmission cut out.

+


	10. Chapter 10

+

“We’re not going to Ajan Kloss—not yet.”

They’d been scrambling since Crait. Now that Leia had time to reflect, there was too much risk involved without taking precautions.

“Where is Ajan Kloss, General? I’ve never heard of it.” Commander D’Acy was a welcome addition to the control room. Leia pulled up a holo imagine for the benefit of the new faces gathered around the table.

“There’s good reason for that, Commander.” Leia enlarged the image of a moon she hadn’t set foot on in nearly three decades. 

“Years ago, worlds such as Crait, D’Qar and Ajan Kloss were discovered by Alderaanian explorers. Their existence was never shared with the wider galaxy, because the Royal Family anticipated needing places of refuge should their political fortunes turn against them—which never happened.“ Leia sighed. Something else had, and no one needed to ask for clarification.

“As Princess of Alderaan, I inherited that information.”

“The Rebel Alliance was fortunate you did,” came Rieekan’s gruff comment. He knew full well the Rebellion would never have survived without the bolt-holes Bail Organa had known of.

“All these years, you had the foresight to keep this information from the New Republic,” observed Casterfo quietly, shaking his head in admiration. “To think I once accused you of being paranoid.”

Leia’s expression was solemn. “Admiral Ackbar and I kept a few things in our back pockets, you might say. Just in case we needed them someday.”

Ransolm nodded, studying the rotating holo. “Is this the last of them, then? The last of these secret worlds?”

“Yes. I don’t have any other cards up my sleeve. I haven’t been there in a very long time, and I’d rather not stumble across someone else who’s decided it’s a good base of operations.”

“So, we scout it?” Finn assumed. Unfortunately, they only had a handful of ships. 

“What about using remote electrotelescopes?” Rose piped up. “That would save risking personnel and depleting fuel reserves.” A nice way of saying they didn’t need to use people or ships they didn’t have.

“Those should be simple enough to get our hands on.” Orrimaarko liked the idea and, judging by the nods Leia saw around the conference table, so did the others.

Charth immediately began outlining a plan and a team was put together to make a run for the necessary equipment. Observing Ajan Kloss for a few months was a wiser move than heading to such a remote location immediately.

The truth was, there wasn’t enough of a Resistance to warrant a base yet. This way, the people they hoped to gather to their cause would have a place to hide when they finally did.

+

“I may never fully recover. Is that what you’re trying your best not to tell me?” Leia had just undergone a full physical with Harter Kalonia. Human physicians had facial expressions, MD-15 droids did not, and Leia preferred Dr. Kalonia.

Trapped on a shuttle and drifting in space for days, the doctor hadn’t missed a beat and had immediately begun assessing their eleven Corellian patients. Only afterward had Leia allowed herself to be examined.

“I’m not saying it’s impossible. You shouldn’t be alive right now, but here you are. I’d never bet against you.” Dr. Kalonia entered something into her datapad before giving Leia a pointed look. 

“Speaking of which, I’m not going to scold you for Bastatha. Bear in mind that you may experience similar episodes in the future. Be sure to take the medication I’ve prescribed, because that should prevent your headaches from becoming debilitating. One last thing—how are you sleeping?”

“Surprisingly well. Since Corellia, that is.”

Dr. Kalonia’s eyebrows rose just a fraction. “That’s good to hear.”

The doctor made no comment about the probable explanation for that, because she’d just finished seeing Ransolm Casterfo and certain matters were confidential. She smiled reassuringly at Leia instead. 

“Well, whatever it is you’re doing, keep doing it. Rest will help you heal. I’m glad you’re delegating more responsibility than you have in the past.”

Leia thanked her and got up to leave. She paused in the doorway when she thought better of it.

“How can I help him, Harter? You know who I mean.”

Harter Kalonia sighed. “Ultimately, he’s going to have to find his own reasons to go on. I get the feeling he has a few. I know he’s had a setback, but these are early days.”

Leia nodded. “He has a strong will, that much I can tell you.” 

Princess Leia’s expression told her that wasn’t all Ransolm Casterfo had. “He’s lucky, Leia. You’ve instinctively been making use of what amounts to Gatalentan touch therapy. It works only in the hands of skilled practitioners—or, between people who have a deep trust in each other.”

“Which surprises you, given what happened back on Hosnian Prime..”

“It does, to be honest. Not everyone could come back from that kind of betrayal.” Harter remembered Casterfo’s dramatic takedown of Leia. However, she remembered something else just as clearly:

“I’m not surprised you’re friends. The morning of the senate bombing, Senator Casterfo was one of the first people to the med centre. He helped an elderly Togrutan woman, then a Twi’lek—“

“Yendor’s wife!”

“I didn’t know that. But I do remember how many others he brought to us, and how much he cared. It impressed me, how quickly he organized volunteers into teams, how naturally everybody followed him.” Harter smiled. “At his best, he’s a force to be reckoned with. Am I right?”

“That’s an understatement. He draws people to him as easily as other people breathe. We need that kind of leadership—I’m getting too old for this.”

Dr. Kalonia didn’t comment, knowing Leia couldn’t make that type of confession to many. A general needed to inspire, to lead. Fortunately, it seemed like she had a new shoulder to lean on. 

“One thing, Leia—he really doesn’t want to be referred to as a senator.” 

“I know. Technically he isn’t anyway, but even the idea haunts him. I get the feeling he blames himself for a lot more than telling everybody I’m Darth Vader’s daughter.” Leia sighed. “He saw him, you know. As a child. Ransolm saw my father torture his own. Vader made him watch. He saw other things, too—things no one should.” 

Dr. Kalonia leaned back in her chair. “That will have affected him deeply—perhaps more than he’s let himself acknowledge. We like to think of children as resilient, which they are. But witnessing horrors at a tender age? Let’s just say there’s a reason we call it a ‘tender age.’

Leia squared her shoulders as if she were ready to do battle for Ransolm. “He’s a survivor, Harter. If anyone is strong enough to overcome what he’s been though, it’s him.”

Dr. Kalonia nodded. Hope was important.

+

“What is it?” 

Leia flopped onto the divan in her stateroom suite, relieved she didn’t have to be on her feet any longer. 

“Nothing you could relate to.” She smiled, patting the spot beside her. Ransolm took the hint and sat down. “You don’t have enough of it to know, but keeping your hair pinned up all day can give a person a headache. It can get heavy. That’s all.” Leia reached up to pull a few pins out but had to let her arms drop.

Ransolm leaned forward on the curved divan, curved because it fit into one corner of Leia’s suite. That meant he nearly faced the princess and he didn’t care for how pale she’d just become. He frowned. Thinking they had at least one variety of tea that might help what ailed her, he busied himself in the cleverly designed kitchenette a few paces away.

“Would you mind bringing me my medication?” He hadn’t been aware that she required any. “Green package, left hand cupboard.” 

Letting their tea steep, he saw to it. He set a steaming mug of tea in front of Leia once it was ready, dismayed to find her with her eyes closed and her head bowed.

“It’s that bad?” 

She nodded without looking up. Hesitantly, Ransolm set his hand on her wrist.

“Wouldn’t it help, then? Taking it down?” She’d seen _him_ when he’d lost it completely. What was letting her hair down in comparison? Still, perhaps it was best that he leave. He said as much.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Leia shook her head. “Please, stay. It does need to come down, it’s just that my arms don’t want to cooperate.” Wearily she snagged another pin.

Ransolm frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous. Let me help you.”

Leia's breath caught--and then, she remembered that a male senator from an Inner Rim world probably wouldn't have a clue as to what that symbolized to an Alderaanian. Besides, her planet was gone and her headache wasn't. 

It started to fade as the weight of her hair lessened and gentle hands carded through it after the last of the pins were removed. Ransolm’s long fingers felt heavenly against her scalp—somewhere along the way, he’d started rubbing soothing circles against it.

“I need you to help me make a list,” Leia began. “Potentially sympathetic planetary governors, senators who...”

“Enough, Leia.” His fingers stilled. “You’ve done enough for one day. It’s time to rest, my friend.” 

Maybe it was the medication, perhaps it was her weakened condition, but Leia leaned back against Ransolm’s shoulder. She didn’t say anything and neither did he. For the longest time, neither of them moved. To Ransolm’s surprise, she eventually fell asleep. When he was certain of it, he shifted so that she could lie down properly. 

Gingerly extracting himself, he padded over to where an extra blanket from the medbay was folded and carefully tucked it around the princess. He ran a hand through his hair, considering how best to proceed. Should he leave? Probably. Three nights in a row in the same room as the General was enough to cause gossip—if anyone was inclined toward that sort of thing.

Then again, Leia’s presence kept his nightmares at bay. He’d heard the cries of the other former prisoners. His own were likely just as hard to hear, and he already knew Dr. Kalonia’s firm stance on unnecessary medication. 

The truth? He’d spare everybody by remaining where he was. He settled on comming Threepio on the pretense of having him monitor Leia’s vitals while she slept. The droid’s sensors could easily handle that.

Threepio was glad to be of service: “Might I suggest that you position yourself closer to the princess, sir? I expect that both of you will find that beneficial.”

Touch was healing—even an inorganic recognized as much. There was nothing terribly mystical about it in Ransolm’s opinion, never mind the labels some gave it. He did as the protocol droid suggested and lay listening to Leia’s even breathing for a very long time. Eventually, he drifted off. 

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +
> 
> Too lazy to make sure descriptions of Ajan Kloss/Crait etc. aren’t taken verbatim from the newest visual dictionary.
> 
> As for the turn this fic is about to take in the ship department? It wasn’t _my_ idea to have Leia dream of ‘sausages and biscuits’ after Crait—which leads her think of Ransolm in ‘Resistance Reborn..’. ;)__


	11. Chapter 11

+

Dross Squadron. Something literally named for _junk_ was contributing more to the cause than _he_ was.____

__

__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Ransolm flung his staff against the wall in frustration, where it clattered to the floor of the empty cargo bay. He sank to his knees in the gloom, breathing hard.

Useless. There was no other word for him. Weeks of hard training, and he was still pathetic—mentally and physically. Compassion for the weakness of others didn’t mean he could forgive it in himself.

Why did Leia bother with him? It wasn’t as though she had energy to spare. He ought to know, because she kept him within arm’s reach more often than not. He’d caught enough pitying glances to guess why.

Why would the princess insist on picking his brain if his judgement was so impaired? She’d collapsed after the strain of that idiotic casino plan. Leia assured him that wasn’t the reason, but Commander Dameron’s wary expression said otherwise.

_ _ He knew himself to be no asset to the Resistance. Unless they were recuperating in the medbay, most newcomers had defined ranks or roles. Leia hadn’t assigned him one. Didn’t that say it all? What a waste of a rescue effort he was. __

__ Ransolm flopped onto his back and lay in the semi-darkness of the cargo bay like a Mon Cala fishstar. In the daydreams of his youth, he’d always imagined himself some gallant, heroic figure—what a joke. Princesses in fairy stories might need rescuing, but Leia never had and never would. It was part of why she had his undying admiration, but also a reminder of his relative weakness._ _

Cutar Har was the strongest of the ‘Corellian Eleven’. The grav-ball star had no military experience whatsoever but leadership qualities aplenty—probably the reason he’d been captain of his team. Apparently grav-ball skills could also translate into an aptitude for marksmanship.

They hadn’t so much as let Ransolm near a simulator. Frankly, he was surprised that Dr. Kalonia had cleared him to train with a quarterstaff. He’d only talked her into it by stressing the importance of mind-body balance and the like. Ransolm remembered a time when he’d been thought persuasive. He recoiled from those memories. He recoiled from others, too. 

His body was as much of a wreck as his mind. Years of disciplined exercise in a prison cell—always in the dark, when his jailers couldn’t see him—meant it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Still, he was far from fit. Leia suggested he use the empty chamber next to her suite for training purposes, but he’d given her the first lie he’d ever told her by insisting he required more space. 

He definitely needed space. The truth? He couldn’t stand the thought of her seeing him like this. The days immediately following his rescue were a haze of blurred memories now, blighted by the wake of the casino mission. 

When the shipment of sonic neutralizers arrived, Ransolm had been first in line for his. The portable device spared others having to listen to the hells he relived in his mind at night. It meant he could stop crawling to Leia like a frightened child; she wasn’t his mother.

That wasn’t the only reason he stayed away from the princess’ quarters.

The morning after her awful headache, he and Leia were chatting over breakfast in her stateroom suite when the discussion turned to Alderaan. It had all been very pleasant, until Leia had left to deal with a situation in the control room.

Ransolm had asked Threepio to explain a finer point relating to the topic he and the princess had just been discussing. The ever-helpful droid had, but his habitual elaboration had also led him off on a tangent explaining the significance of certain...Alderaanian hair traditions.

Ransolm was horrified to learn how seriously he’d overstepped. He’d left at once, asking Threepio to make his excuses. He hadn’t been back since.

There he’d been, casually pulling pins out of braids belonging to the one and only Princess of Alderaan without having the slightest idea as to what that must have meant to her! He ought to have guessed by the look on her face. It had amounted to a violation of sorts—she’d obviously been feeling too poorly to protest. 

That marked the end of their shared dinners, of taking tea together, of the frequent physical contact between them. Those touches were new, and he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he welcomed them. Leia surely wouldn’t—not now. The princess was worried for him. That must be the reason she was behaving as though that night had never happened.

Ransolm pushed away his jumbled thoughts, knowing Leia would seek him out if he didn’t. Worse, she’d have someone come to check on him. Force knew how she sensed when he was at his lowest, and Force knew why she bothered to begin with. 

A Resistance to fan into flames from its embers, and Leia Organa was wasting her time on _him?_

_ __ _

+

_ __ _

He’d been still and quiet for a long time when he realized he was no longer alone. He sat up, because silhouetted against the light of the corridor, a slim, petite figure had just entered the darkened hold.

She was singing to herself. Ransolm recognized her voice at once, for Hevasi Joy was a pop star known throughout the galaxy. He’d been lucky enough to meet her once. He doubted she’d remember as much. 

Her light steps drew closer and her voice paused mid-phrase.

"My apologies for startling you.” Ransolm stopped himself from standing up because Hevasi looked like she wanted to bolt. “I should have made my presence known, but had no wish to interrupt.”

Hevasi didn't respond. Ransolm felt her studying him cautiously where he sat cross-legged in the gloom and hoped he appeared non-threatening.

“Those words are so beautiful—I find they speak to the soul, Miss Joy.” He spoke softly, for she still seemed afraid.

“Thank you, Senator Casterfo.” 

"Just Ransolm, if you will. Am I to understand they are your own?” He recalled that she wrote her own songs. These lyrics had been as haunting as the melody, although what he’d just heard was a far cry from the catchy little numbers that had made Hevasi a superstar.

She nodded.

“Remarkable. You truly have a way with words—and you probably wonder what I’m doing here in the dark!” Ransolm smiled, meaning to put her at ease.

“The same thing I am?”

“Possibly, but let’s put some light on the subject, shall we?” He hopped up, hitting the illumination and retrieving his staff from the corner. 

“You were training, then—-in the dark?”

“It wasn’t total darkness. Besides, that’s where you were singing!”

A hint of a smile crossed Hevasi’s lips. She remembered this man. Senator Casterfo had a pleasing voice, but it sounded slightly hoarse to Hevasi. Dysphonia, no doubt brought on by extreme stress. That would be awful to suffer from. 

Senator Casterfo still had the same kind eyes. Years ago, he’d been the only one in the room who made it feel like he was seeing _her_, the person—not just the opportunity for a celebrity holo snap or as a trophy to take to bed. __

_ _ She found herself staying. Did he remember meeting her, years ago? He was almost always with General Organa, so their paths hadn’t exactly crossed until now._ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

“They say you are a master.” Hevasi indicated the staff in his hand.

“That may have been true...once. Not any longer, I’m sure.” Ransolm ran a hand through his hair. However would she have heard such a thing?

He looked older than he actually was, thought Hevasi Joy. His imprisonment must have been harsh, and everyone knew how long it had been. His hair was grey instead of the sandy gold she remembered—not like she’d ever forget. But Senator Casterfo was still very attractive and had what her agent called ‘star quality’—a presence, something about him that drew you in. You either had it, or you didn’t. He definitely had it.

Hevasi remembered blushing when she’d met him years ago. It had been at a gala evening on Hosnian Prime. She’d been thankful her skin tone hid it from his eyes—those arresting, vividly blue and absolutely drop-dead-gorgeous eyes. Dishy diplomats didn’t grow on trees. Karking hells, was she blushing again? 

“I wish I could do that.” Time to stop gawking at him like a teenager. 

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Fight. Do something useful. They’ve saved me, they’ve asked me what I’d like to do, where I’d like to go.” Hevasi looked away for a moment. “The truth is—I don’t really know.”

She chewed on her bottom lip, which Ransolm couldn’t help but notice. Hevasi Joy was gorgeous even without the glorious auburn hair the First Order had shorn off to punish her. Fools. That only drew more attention to her features, especially her eyes.

“I’m not like you, Senator—“ she began.

“Ransolm,” he corrected her. He took her hand when she offered it.

Hevasi felt little butterflies she thought were dead forever. “Ransolm,” she smiled. Something about him made her want to trust him, to stay—and was she mistaken, or had she just seen a flicker of sadness in those blue eyes? 

“You’re a powerful man. That’s why the First Order tried their best to break you, until they decided they wanted you dead. You’ve had influence people would kill for—you still do. Look how easily you guilted that horrible Collective woman into giving the Resistance half its credits back!”

Finn and Poe were getting serious mileage out of that tale, not that Ransolm had any idea.

Hevasi thought he seemed awfully modest about that. “And then you went on some crazy mission to a casino with _Princess Leia_? The one and only? Who gets to do that?” Ransolm Casterfo didn’t look happy at all now. Time to change the subject. __

Hevasi sighed. “I wish I could fight.” She eyed his staff. 

“I could show you. If you’d like.”

Hevasi hoped she wasn’t blushing. Was someone like _him_ really offering to do that for someone like her—someone useless? “I’d like that. Very much.”__

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Very well. We can begin at once—if you wish. Perhaps you’d like to start with learning the most effective way to drop a full-grown man to his knees?”

He was speaking in earnest so she nodded.

+


	12. Chapter 12

+

Why was she nervous? Ransolm was right. Only a handful of pilots turned their heads as they passed, and all of them looked too busy to pay them any attention. She shouldn't have stage fright anyway. It wasn't as though she was in front of hundreds of thousands of screaming fans. Millions, if you counted live holofeeds.

Perhaps it was because this was personal--the First Order had made sure of it.

Hevasi Joy, intergalactic musical sensation, gave Ransolm Casterfo a nervous smile as he led the way to a pilot sitting on an overturned crate in the corner. The woman didn’t notice them at first, because she was tapping away furiously at a datapad. 

She seemed surprised to see Ransolm and gave a start when she noticed Hevasi beside him. Hevasi recognized her expression: here was a fan, attempting to mask being star-struck and determined to treat her like a normal human being. Which she was. Hevasi appreciated the effort. 

They were here for Suralinda Javos because the Black Squadron pilot had General Organa's blessing to oversee matters relating to Resistance public relations.

"I have a feeling Suralinda will be quite interested in what you've come up with, Vasi." Ransolm gave Hevasi that smile, the one that always made her heart do a little flip--not that she'd ever let him know it. 

Ransolm was the reason she'd made the recording to begin with. He was convinced she could help the Resistance by being exactly who she already was, and that had Hevasi handing new music over to a surprised Suralinda.

It only took a few bars for the upbeat, unabashedly rabble-rousing protest anthem to bring a grin to Suralinda's face. She cranked up the volume and blasted it. Hells, this might become Black Squadron’s theme. Suralinda's smile grew broader the longer she listened and soon enough, every pilot within earshot was clustered around her datapad.

Suralinda led the applause that followed.

"That’s not all—the next one’s every bit as good.” Ransolm gave Hevasi another encouraging smile as Suralinda queued it up. Hevasi was blooming right before his eyes, the energy and enthusiasm of the small group restoring some of what she'd lost in First Order custody. He gave her shoulders an affectionate squeeze. 

"The first one is basically for us—the Resistance—but this next track might appeal to something of a wider audience.” Ransolm flashed Hevasi a conspiratorial grin, unaware of Leia's arrival with Commander Dameron. 

"The heroic destruction of Starkiller, something the First Order still denies? It's a fight for the light, a promise..." his voice trailed off when he finally noticed the princess standing off to one side.

He held her gaze until Leia broke it. There was plenty of applause as the Starkiller tribute played through.

Suralinda mimed a bowing action as the recording reached its end. "Brilliant. I bow to your genius, Hevasi Joy! Truly I do. Pop star propoganda--what do you think, General?" She’d noticed Leia’s arrival, too.

The General gave a single nod.

Suralinda was excited enough to hop up and give Hevasi a hug, thrilled to get one in return. She’d stopped pretending she wasn’t a fan.

"Catchy.” Snap Wexley applauded heartily enough for everyone, and Karé had to smile. Her husband adored Hevasi Joy. He had to be tickled to be standing right next to her, and Karé looked forward to ribbing him about the colour of his ears a little later. Heck, maybe she’d go ahead and tell Snap’s celebrity crush that she had Snap to thank—in part —for her rescue from Corellia. The poor woman had been too shell- shocked for anything that night, and Karé hadn’t seen her since.

"It proves you're alive, too,” called Poe from beside Leia. “That sends a message in itself. We’ve got to get this out there. It’s better than any recruitment poster.”

Finn had to agree—even if Poe looked pretty good on those posters. He was even more pleased by how much Hevasi’s demeanour had changed recently. Proof of that was when she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a warm hug. When she let go, she surprised him all over again:

"I've written one for you too, Finn!” Stars, she had the prettiest eyes.

"Are you _serious_?" Finn couldn't hide his glee. Poe clapped him on the back, even though he wasn't sure how he felt about all that enthusiasm--still, Finn was amazing and definitely deserved a song. Or something.__

_ __ _

__

"It’ll have to wait until later. It's not on the recording," Hevasi smiled apologetically.

"So what? Let's hear it now." Suralinda leaped to her feet, loving the idea of an instant concert. She was oblivious to Jess, Snap and Karé exchanging worried glances.

"I'll need a little help--" began Hevasi.

"You've got it!" Suralinda did an alarming shimmy.

Poe groaned. Suralinda was probably imagining a whole new career as a backup singer. He suspected he wasn’t the only Black Squadron pilot with that fear. None of them had forgotten the indescribable spectacle that was Suralinda onstage, not that it mattered in the end.

Brimming with confidence, Hevasi Joy was absolutely captivating and soon had Suralinda, Snap Wexley and half of Black Squadron snapping their fingers along with her before launching into what she’d written for her new friend, Finn. 

She was radiant, beyond beautiful in that moment. This little musical interlude was lifting spirits like not much could. The sight of the incandescent Hevasi Joy in her element left Leia Organa wondering if she’d ever been close to that gorgeous in that cinnamon-coloured outfit from Cloud City. 

Hevasi Joy had Leia’s clothing on her back...along with Ransolm Casterfo’s hand...

"Ransolm thinks it would be _amazing_ if we could somehow hack into a stormtrooper training facility and get this one played every morning,” Hevasi laughed:__

_ __ _

__

'Stolen from your family,  
What do you stand for...'

The song ended with Hevasi Joy swept up in a cluster of people and praise, but not before she stood on tip-toe to pull Ransolm's face close enough for a peck on the cheek. 

Rose and the other non-pilots left when she did, all of them laughing and joking about who ought to be backup singer based on how they sounded in the sonic showers.

It felt like the light left the room along with the radiant Hevasi Joy. Ransolm, Poe and Leia stayed behind with Black Squadron for an impromptu meeting.

"You can't wash that side of your face again, man. Not ever," deadpanned Snap Wexley. Kare affectionately elbowed her husband.

"It's true,” laughed Poe. “Beats an autograph.” Hevasi was dazzling. Her style of music wasn't really his thing, but he had to admit she'd nailed Finn's heroic qualities. The best part? She obviously didn't have designs on Finn at all. 

"Apparently you can die a happy man now, Senator Casterfo," said Suralinda archly.

Leia gave Ransolm a speculative look and he quickly glanced away.

+

"That was...inspired," said Leia carefully. "An excellent use of Hevasi Joy's considerable talents." She poured the tea and was about to set it on the table when she thought better of it. She handed it to Ransolm instead and their fingers brushed.

"The First Order has enough propoganda. It’s time to take advantage of the weapons in our own arsenal." Ransolm’s tone was formal, neutral. He hadn't been to Leia’s quarters in weeks. He was often near her, but never alone with her. 

He excelled at subtly avoiding that scenario, and she’d had enough. 

"It's done her a lot of good, I'm sure.” Leia took a sip of her tea. It needed honey.

The lines of Ransolm’s face seemed to deepen. "I'm glad to have helped her find her way—she’s found it therapeutic. I’m sure you’re aware that she’s struggled.” His expression changed and became unreadable. “Everyone needs a purpose."

Leia was aware of that, as well as other things--namely, the rumours that Ransolm gave the perky little pop princess daily private training sessions in Hosnian martial arts. He gave them to others, too—Charth and Cutar among them; even Finn, from time to time. But he’d never been spotted emerging from _their_ quarters late at night. __

_ __ _

__

Leia bit back what she'd been about to say. What business was it of hers? Why had she insisted he come to her, anyway?

She wasn’t the only one wondering. “What am I doing here at all, Leia?" Ransolm set his tea down too hard and it spilled onto the clean white surface of the table.

"You haven't been yourself—

“You couldn’t be more right. I’m unaccustomed to being useless!“ He took to his feet.

Leia reached for his sleeve but he shook her hand away.

“It hasn’t escaped me that I have no rank, no role, no purpose. Oh, you’ll argue that I’m constantly with high command— not like I ever open my mouth." He raked his hands through his hair. “The truth is, I do nothing. I haven't been given leave to do so much as go on a supply run, never mind a recruiting mission!

‘Concentrate on healing, concentrate on getting stronger’—that’s all I ever hear, and quite frankly, it’s taking too long! I'm fit to fly, I’m fit to do something. _Anything!_” __

_ _ He clenched his fists so hard his knuckles whitened. Leia had never seen Ransolm like this, not even during their screaming match years ago, when each believed the other had betrayed them. _ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

Leia’s first instinct had been right— he needed something to do. She waited as he composed himself. He did, of course, for Ransolm always reined himself in when the chips were down.

“I don't have so much as a rank, Leia. People have come to us with nothing, with no skills whatsoever, yet all of them have clearly defined roles. I have none!”

“I’ve handled this poorly, Ransolm.”

He looked set to argue--more like the man she knew. “This has nothing to do with you!”

“That’s not so.” When Leia reached for him this time, her touch froze him in place. She fingered the fine green fabric of Ransolm’s jacket. Green—the colour of hope. He was still so unlike himself, unsure, so vulnerable--part of Leia wanted to keep him off the front lines forever. Was that why she’d done an about-face and asked Harter not to clear him for action? 

Here was a man who lived for duty. She was guilty of treating him like a valuable playing piece, one to be saved for a critical point in some chess match rather than the man she knew. That wasn’t fair to him—he was too much like her. 

“I have high hopes for you, Ransolm,” said Leia softly.

“If you have, I haven’t risen to them.”

“You misunderstand.” Leia stepped closer--close enough to rest her hand on his chest. His heart hammered beneath her palm. “You’ll never have a rank. You don't need one. You never will.”

“No rank!” She may as well have stabbed him.

“Why would you want one? So that you can answer to Poe Dameron? To Rieekan? To me? That wouldn’t suit you." Leia shook her head. "Besides, it would be a waste of your talents.”

Ransolm’s fingers slowly curled around Leia's. The pounding in his chest lessened, even as hers rose. Leia’s other hand was on his sleeve, and she ran her fingertips over its smooth green fabric again.

“Green leader,” she said, slowly. Ransolm’s eyes were so blue. "Not a squadron--a unit operating outside traditional parameters. 'Green Team’—if you like.”

She watched his reaction carefully. “Its composition can vary, depending on your objectives.”

“Objectives that I am to determine?”

Leia nodded. “I have faith in you.” A faith he obviously lacked. Gone was his young man’s arrogance, his overconfidence. 

“My judgement is faulty."

“I have to disagree.” 

“We often did.” He looked pained, but kept her hand folded in his. Leia took a step closer and felt him sigh.

“I’m...sorry, Leia. I know I haven’t been myself.” 

Stepping back to take both of his hands in her own, she gave them a squeeze. “I’ll take you as you are. Just promise me you won’t be a stranger."

Ransolm let out a shaky breath. "Half the time I’m a stranger to myself.” 

He left without drinking his tea.

+


	13. Green Team

+

Leia was leading a delegation to Mon Cala, so it was the perfect time to test his wings. The wings in question were more sluggish than Ransolm cared for but the thought of flying anything— even this battered old hulk— held enormous appeal. It didn’t matter that prepping the ship was taking so long; he had plenty of time on his hands. 

Ransolm spent most of that time training, though he would have preferred to read. To _think._ How else would he understand the shifting complexities of a galaxy that had changed so much during his imprisonment? __

_ __ _

_ __ _

Talking to people was crucial, Threepio’s records were helpful - but making something of it all? Ransolm had an analytical streak, and it was frustrating to be able do so little thinking before migraines struck with a vengeance. Major Kalonia assured him those would disappear in time, but it often felt to Ransolm like he didn't have much of it to spare.

Realizing his thoughts had just contradicted themselves, he ducked out from beneath the vessel’s beaten-up hull to find Cutar Har regarding him curiously. Cutar was forever curious. Always enthusiastic, always energetic, and always amiable, too. Ransolm knew that well enough because the grav-ball star was his most dedicated student. Hosnian martial arts were in no danger of dying out with the likes of Cutar Har as a rookie enthusiast, and Ransolm considered it a bonus that he rather liked him.

"What’s up?” Cutar's thumbs were hitched into his belt as he rocked back and forth on his heels, likely wondering why today’s training session was cancelled and hoping for something to do in its place.

"Nothing glamorous, I'm afraid. Just a quick run for salvage."

Cutar knew a brush-off when he heard one but this one struck him as a titch half-hearted. Besides, he figured that Casterfo--big-shot that he was--wasn't himself just yet, and so Cutar tried to look out for him. The Corellian Eleven ought to stick together.

He eyed the PK droid marching up the ship's ramp with open curiosity and made note of the blaster at Casterfo's hip. "Where to?" He trailed Ransolm, who moved toward the ship's stern to continue the pre-flight check. Casterfo was a pilot as well as the General’s shadow? He’d assumed a high-profile politician would have others do his flying for him. As for Cutar, he wasn’t rated to fly starfighters yet but this clunker of a freighter was a different story.

"Yendor located an abandoned New Republic depot. Out-of-the-way, not far from these coordinates. As I said, nothing remarkable." Nothing but an excuse to fly.

That sounded pretty good to Cutar. He'd been cleared for active duty, not that he'd received any orders yet. Casterfo must have been cleared too, which struck him as a happy coincidence.

"Who's along for the ride?" 

"No one." Ransolm's attention was focussed on the task at hand but his tone was as pleasant as ever. Cutar figured somebody's mother had raised him well. 

"That doesn't strike me as very efficient. You can't mean you're going alone--"

"Of course he's not going alone! That would be the height of foolishness, not to mention a violation of standard operating protocol--which dictates two pilots for every multi-passenger vessel," a new voice called out from the far side of the small freighter. "Hardly a prospect Senator Casterfo would entertain."

Charth Brethen cocked a brow in Ransolm's direction, a glint of amusement in his dark eyes, along with a hint of a reprimand. Like Ransolm, he was fully armed. Charth was probably here because his father had tipped him off to what he was planning. The tall, purple-skinned Twi'lek didn't say anything more, but Ransolm understood he had a copilot. 

Fair enough. Ships were scarce, so even an unappealing hulk had value. Ransolm hadn't exactly meant to breach protocol—not that Leia hadn't given him clearance to basically do as he pleased. It was just that he hadn't wanted to place others at risk along with himself. Who would want to follow him, anyway?

_ __ _

_ __ _

Apparently Charth. Out of duty, presumably. Then again, Ryloth’s ambassador struck Ransolm as a man of action. Not that this counted as much.

Cutar looked between the two tall men with interest. The senator and the ambassador were both going? This boded well in terms of potential entertainment value. Besides, with the two of them gone, chances were there'd be no around to spar with later.

_ __ _

_ __ _

"If it's all the same to you, I'll come along." Cutar flashed them his most charming smile, the one on all the cereal boxes--before his imprisonment, that was. "My old man's a mechanic, so I know a thing or two about parts. Who do I see for clearance?" 

There, he hadn't given them the chance to say no. That's how you got anywhere in this life, everybody knew that. Plus, these guys were decent; you got to know someone by sparring with them on a regular basis.

Ransolm paused as he considered the matter. Charth was silently making it clear he was along for the venture come hells or high water, and Cutar—well, Cutar was relentless. He was also bored, and Ransolm knew how _that_ felt. __

_ _ "As you wish. Come along." He turned and boarded the ship, Cutar trailing him like an oversized, agreeable house pet. Charth smiled to himself and brought up the rear._ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

"Just like that?" Cutar asked, somewhat surprised. He took the seat Casterfo directed him toward when they reached the cockpit.

"Just like that." 

Ah, of course. Ransolm and Charth practically _lived_ in the control room. If he stuck with them, who knew the fun he might have? Not today, of course. But perhaps some other time.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

"Green light, huh?"

Casterfo simply nodded. Then he settled himself into the pilot's seat as Charth took the co-pilot's. When Casterfo gestured to an extra blaster in a case on the floor of the cockpit, Cutar's grin got bigger.

“I get to run with the big boys, now!" He picked the blaster up and tried it in either hand, liking its heft. He was fully ambidextrous, a huge advantage for a grav-ball player.

"You don't get out much, do you?" Charth observed, a hint of a smile playing over his lips. His lekku twitched.

"Nope!" replied Cutar enthusiastically. "Not in years, which you already know.” He was still checking out the blaster, because he’d never fired one outside of a training simulator. “Before that, you mean? What did I do? Train. Eat. Play. Sleep. Et cetera." He winked at the last, which prompted Charth to roll his eyes. Cutar strapped on the holstered blaster as Casterfo fired up the ship’s engines. That was when he spotted the case of charges— grenades, mostly.

"Can I have one of those?" he asked, ever hopeful. "I'm pretty good at throwing things." He was. That’s why his contracts had made him millions.

"Modest, too." Charth commented as their ship lifted off.

"Not exactly my best quality," smiled the affable Cutar Har, grav-ball star. He crossed his arms behind his head and settled in for the ride. 

This was going to be fun.

+

Cutar had a limited attention span. Inexhaustible energy though, in combination with his fair share of curiosity. The two men sitting quietly in front of him used big words but didn't talk much. That was interesting, especially in Casterfo’s case. Everybody knew senators talked all day—that was what they were for.

"Armed to the teeth, aren't we?" By this time, Cutar had familiarized himself with the rest of the weaponry onboard.

"Naturally we're armed to the teeth. We’re Resistance. Since when is anyone delighted to see us?” asked Ransolm dryly.

Was that actual humour? Cutar leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "Ran!" he announced with conviction.

Casterfo furrowed his brow. "Are you addressing me?”

_ __ _

_ __ _

"Sure am. Ransolm. Two syllables. Too _many_ syllables. Too long, too tough to spit out in a hurry. If we run into trouble, that is.” Cutar was thinking of a playing field and equating it to a battlefield in his head.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Ransolm made no comment, so Cutar carried on. Somebody had to, because nobody else was showing signs of being a sparkling conversationalist. “Charth is fine, it’s plenty short. And I'm Tar."

"Tar?" Casterfo repeated. "But of course you are,” he finally muttered. The man would insist on team jerseys for them next.

'Tar' flashed him an amiable grin. "Not going to let you call me 'Cute', that's for sure! Tar it’s been, all my life." He preferred to think of himself as ‘ruggedly handsome’ and had never been given evidence to the contrary.

"Tar," Ransolm repeated. Charth tried not to smile at the look on his face as he did.

+

The salvage run was less eventful than the journey there, as far as Cutar was concerned. Was he mildly disappointed? Maybe. The three men worked together easily, falling into a rhythm that made it seem as though they'd been doing it for years. With the droid's help, they located what they needed from the site, made note of what else might eventually prove useful, and got their cargo aboard in short order.

They encountered no one, met no difficulties, and were safely en route to the Resistance flagship--the _Holdo_, newly christened at Poe Dameron's suggestion, a perpetual reminder of his costly lapse in judgment even as it paid tribute to the Vice-Admiral's selflessness and sacrifice.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Which meant that Cutar was newly bored. "Rose!" he exclaimed, smiling to himself. That prompted two mildly curious glances in his direction. "The fair Rose Tico will be pleased with us, gentlemen!"

"She will," acknowledged Charth, with the tone of a man certain there was more to the story. The Head of Engineering had supplied them with a wish list, but it sounded like 'Tar' Har had one of his own.

Sure enough, Cutar poured out his admiration for Rose Tico, a thoroughly pleasant, immensely capable young woman Charth would never have expected Cutar Har to take much notice of. Tico had tremendous demands on her time and hardly made it to the mess hall. Other than when the Corellian prisoners had first arrived, when would they have contact?

Apparently, while Rose tinkered away on pet projects in what little spare time she had. According to Tar, she was building a ship from scratch and he spent every chance he could keeping her company. Ransolm Casterfo and Charth Brethen were then treated to a long list of the many virtues of Rose Tico—who, according to an authority named Kaydel Connix, had a secret weakness for poetry.

Ransolm liked Rose and wondered how sincere Cutar was in this apparent regard for her. Cutar was a celebrity, one surely used to his pick of adoring women. Rose was lovely, but glamorous she wasn’t. Perhaps he was being unfair—Cutar seemed a decent man. “What are your intentions, Tar? Rose is very sweet—surely you don’t mean to trifle with her!”

_Trifle?_ Seriously? Who talked like that anymore? “Trifle?” Tar repeated, trying to decide if he ought to be offended. He wasn’t, only because the older man seemed to be looking out for Rose, and that he could forgive. __

_ _ He spent the next five minutes convincing them Rose was the most amazing person he’d ever met, and that she couldn’t care less about grav-ball. She hadn’t even known he was a star. The best part? He’d never met someone so easy to talk to._ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Talking is important,” Charth said softly, thinking of his late wife.

“Agreed,” said Ransolm—realizing his thoughts had turned to the princess of Alderaan.

Cutar was still thinking about how to win Rose. He’d talked his teammates into allowing him to personally deliver their shipment to her, which meant he was fixating on poetry again.

Finally convinced of Tar’s sincerity, Ransolm sighed. "You realize the sheer volume of poetry devoted to roses gives you a wealth of material to draw from?" Charth sagely nodded his agreement. 

Cutar guessed that was what came of having a higher education, something he hadn’t been blessed with thanks to his early draft into the grav-ball ranks. Still, a man could always learn. Especially if he was highly motivated—which Cutar was. 

As it turned out, Casterfo's homeworld of Riosa was named for roses. Flowers were what Riosa had to thank for its famous mead, since mead was derived from its excellent honey. That was more than a little surprising to Tar, who’d always pictured Riosa as having been ruined by the Empire. Then again, it couldn’t be known for mead without bees and flowers somewhere. Casterfo explained that its mead had probably saved Riosa from total destruction, for Imperial Moffs had prized the finer things in life. 

Where roses bloomed so did poetry devoted to them, and Tar was pleased to discover how much of it Casterfo could recite off the top of his head. Charth had several suggestions as well, and between the two of them they had Cutar armed with what he thought was pretty good stuff by the time they returned to the Resistance fleet. 

Tar wasn’t much of a reader—he’d always struggled with text—but he had an excellent memory for anything he heard, and it boosted his confidence when Charth complimented him on how expressively he recited the lines they’d taught him. Because Rose? She was brilliant—probably out of his league.

“Why the urgency, Tar? You’ve already told us you sit on a toolbox and keep her company for hours on end. Surely you can keep doing more of the same. Things will progress as they’re meant to—you hardly need poetry to impress her.” Charth’s advice was sensible enough.

However, Tar saw things differently. “Right. I’ve been useful—I know my way around tools, like my dad always said I ought to. ‘If the women don’t find you handsome, they should at least find you handy!’ That’s what he used to say. Trouble is, I think I’m in the friend zone with Rose—seriously stuck in the friend zone. And once you’re there? Well, it’s not always the easiest place to get out of, is it?”

Tar had no idea that his words had Ransolm Casterfo reflecting on how miraculous it was that Leia Organa was even his friend at all, not after everything he’d done to her. How was it that she’d ever forgiven his betrayal?

He had no right to be in the ‘friend zone’ Tar was bemoaning, and he certainly shouldn’t be entertaining other thoughts—but then Ransolm Casterfo had plenty of experience setting those aside, he’d done it for years—

“Hot buttered biscuits!” Tar exclaimed. They’d just come out of hyperspace at the coordinates marking the Resistance rendezvous point to discover a Mon Cala armada floating in formation around the _Holdo_.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

"The mission to Mon Cala appears to have been a success!” Charth looked pleased.

Cutar glanced at Casterfo for his reaction. The senator from Riosa was staring at the fleet of elegant white starships with a smile that lit up his entire face.

"Yes.” There was no mistaking his fond admiration: "There isn't anything Leia can't do."

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +
> 
> 'Black Spire' mentions a 'new' unit known as 'Green Team', and its leader is described as someone with a 'familiar voice.'  
I'm taking that and running. Probably in the wrong direction.
> 
> Tar Har’s handsome/handy line is stolen from the one and only Red Green. ;)
> 
> Riosa is supposedly famous for mead, so it can't be a total industrial wasteland.


	14. Chapter 14

+

Suralinda Javos had quite the party started, and why not? A fleet of Mon Cala starships didn’t turn up every day. Pretty much everyone not on duty was here, even the General. Leia Organa leaned against the far wall chatting with Rieekan, cool and composed as ever. She always had her act together. 

Black Squadron had rigged up colourful lights, crates scattered around the perimeter of the cargo bay served as makeshift seating, and best of all? Suralinda smiled to herself: best of all, there was a dance floor, and her lanky blue limbs flailed about in all directions as she took command of it. Living on the brink as they so often did meant that every minute counted. You had to dance like you meant it.

Some people dressed up when they heard there was a party. Their ever-so-dashing Commander must like the look of himself in a suit, because there Poe was, wearing it again, trying to persuade that hunky ex-Stormtrooper he was never very far from that it was in his best interests to learn how to dance. It was obviously in somebody’s. 

Black Squadron's newlyweds Karé and Snap were adorable as always, and so were the Wookiee Chewbacca and the pirate queen, though how any pair of beings with such a massive height differential managed to cut a rug like they did was impressive when she stopped to consider the logistics.

Sometimes, the unlikeliest people turned out to be incredible dancers. That little redhead from Corellia--what was her name again, the one with the amazing memory? Good thing she had one, because Suralinda didn't, not at the moment. And Senator Casterfo, who kept himself so tightly in check? He was a completely different story right now. Speaking of tight--had somebody poured the guy into those pants?

+

"This is your opportunity, Tar! Time to advance your cause." Charth Brethen caught Ransolm's third pointed look in their direction. "You're to cut in! I should think that's rather obvious." Were all humans awkward when it came to courtship?

Tar Har looked no more confident of his chances than he'd been five minutes ago. If he asked Rose to dance but she said no, was she rejecting him, or just the idea of dancing? How was he supposed to know the difference? Tired of his moaning, Casterfo had invited Rose Tico to take the floor.

Apparently she didn't mind the dancing part at all.

"Get on with it, man!" Charth tried not to roll his eyes - it was poor form for a Twi'lek. "Where is your courage? Do you wish to remain in this 'friend zone' you speak of?"

Which did the trick, because Tar Har didn't.

+

He’d ditched his jacket, and that man was one hot number. Senator Casterfo wasn't Suralinda's type, but he and Hevasi Joy threatened to melt the floor. Hevasi was more her idea of eye candy; stunning, dark skin gleaming against that tiny blue dress somebody'd sewn for her out of a sequinned cape nobody wanted anymore...but then Jess approached, a broad smile on her face. That was best of all.

Yes, Suralinda loved parties.

+

Could she not look at _anything_ else? __

_ __ _

_ __ _

Leia ripped her eyes away from Ransolm, realizing she’d been mentally ripping his shirt off. Again. Her thoughts had also included the nearest supply closet, which wasn't remotely helpful considering somebody else appeared to have similar plans.

Leia chided herself for her _un_characteristically _un_charitable thoughts regarding that beautiful young somebody, the one Ransolm's hands were currently all over--on the dance floor, that was. Of course that style of dancing was smouldering by nature, everybody knew that, so it wasn't as though he was being vulgar— that wasn't Ransolm. Or Hevasi either, from what Leia knew of her.____

_ _ __ _ _

_ __ _

___ Still, it was steamy. And those two were rumoured to be spending an awful lot of time together. The man couldn't heal if he stayed in his head; apparently he'd been doing it in somebody's bed. Leia sighed, resolving to think of the temperature on Hoth. ___

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

Which was next to useless, because she still couldn’t keep her eyes off him. Jacket gone, shirtsleeves rolled up, the collar of that crisp white shirt unbuttoned --Leia had always appreciated the view, she’d just never let herself admire it. _Stop looking at him that way!___

_ __ _

_ __ _

She'd been married back then, back on Hosnian Prime when she and Ransolm had never seemed to get enough of each other's company; married to a man she'd always love and who hadn't drifted away from her yet, who'd only done that later. Han was gone now, and their marriage had died years before he had.

Leia was very much alive, and so was Ransolm--though each had thought the other dead. He had only ever been her friend, of course; her confidant. But now? Leia felt herself flush. Stars, that man could move. She'd known he would, she'd seen him fight. She remembered wrapping her arms around him as he'd flown them out of danger, long ago...

Which was a spectacularly bad idea, because she was back in that imaginary storage closet again, running her hands all over that chest, memorizing the feel of him--

Until she felt it, knifing through her in the Force.

+

He would truly miss Hevasi. Ransolm sent her twizzling away again as they danced, aware of how suggestive they appeared but allowing himself this one indulgence. Dancing was one of the few he'd ever permitted himself. 

She was like music, Hevasi Joy, aptly named and delightful company. Ransolm told himself that in another lifetime, something more than affection might have blossomed between them. 

A final spin and a lift, and Vasi slowly slid down his body, pressed against his chest. Yes, there were things he badly wanted to remember—but others he struggled to forget. 

Hevasi arched a brow as the next number started, a livelier one she was obviously game for. Ransolm smiled his agreement. He’d miss her sparkling nature, and he had her to thank for learning to be more open, something he’d only ever been with the princess of Alderaan...

He set thoughts of Leia aside. As always, he was keenly aware of her presence. 

Instead, he smiled down at Hevasi and sent her expertly spinning away from him and back again. He’d miss their evenings together, when they’d ramble on about everything under the stars. Vasi was a poli sci major before hitting the big time, they had plenty in common, she was almost as easy to talk to as...he set that aside rather expertly, too.

Talking of history was not the same as having a future, and he’d always made sure that Vasi understood his intentions - or lack of them. He was glad she was heading to Cerea, for she didn't belong in the middle of this fight any more than Charth's children did. They would be safe--as safe as anyone could be any longer.

Still, they could dance. She was sweetness and brightness and all things good. He smiled at Vasi when she twizzled one more time, and let her hug him when the dance ended. 

Hevasi saw that same smile falter. 

Leia Organa was leaving the room, and something in her manner told Ransolm to go with her.

He made his excuses with his usual charm, and Hevasi watched him leave, finally understanding.

+


	15. Chapter 15

+

By the time he caught up, Leia was the General again. 

"Your legs have always been longer than mine," she quipped as Ransolm joined her.

She saw the question in his eyes but chose not to answer. Together they entered the control room, where Kaydel Connix was among those on duty. The young lieutenant did as Leia directed, furrowing her brow when there was no response to the transmission Leia had her to make to Mon Cala. 

"Thank you, Connix. Leave it for now. I'm sure there's an explanation," said Leia smoothly. “I'll check back later." General Organa smiled reassuringly at her young officer.

+

Rey nearly fell into Leia's arms. Skywalker’s apprentice was literally shaking when she met them in the corridor. 

“I was asleep—“ Rey cast a quick glance in Ransolm’s direction. Leia nodded to indicate that she could speak freely. Exhausted from her part in the Mon Cala mission, a nightmare had torn into Rey’s dreams. “It was as though the seas were boiling!”

"You felt it,” said Leia quietly, her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “Just as you’re feeling it now. Our dreams are never just dreams. You know that by now.”

Ransolm sucked in a breath.

"Star Destroyers—so many of them—so much death, raining down from the skies.”

Leia nodded, folding young Rey into another embrace. Ransolm was shocked—and yet, he wasn't. 

A shiver ran down his spine. 

Leia took the girl by the hands: "There's nothing we can do—this time--except keep getting stronger. Drops in a bucket, remember? We don’t lose hope, because that’s _exactly_ what they're trying to crush."__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Rey stepped back, steadied by Leia's calm.

"Meditate on this." 

"Yes, Master." Rey nodded.

Leia and Ransolm watched her depart in silence. 

"There is much I haven't told you. It’s time that I did."

"Yes," Ransolm blinked.

+

When they stepped through the doorway of her stateroom Leia crumpled. 

Ransolm didn’t know what to do with himself; wanting to comfort her, hesitant to touch her, but left with no choice in the matter when she flung her arms around his waist. His found their way around her in return.

"Retribution,” she whispered, leaning her head against his chest. “Everything Rey saw is happening - right now, to Mon Cala. And we’re in no position to stand against it.” Her shoulders shook; Ransolm had no words.

“When I pull myself together it will be to tell a good man--the son of another good man, a friend I’ve already lost--that his world suffers for his choice to stand with us.” Leia hoped young Aftab Ackbar could bear the burden. She wiped at her eyes with the back of a hand and stepped away from Ransolm.“Then, Aftab gets to tell his people the same.” She promptly slumped onto the divan. 

Leia was the strongest person he’d ever met, more like a force of nature. Ran was genuinely shocked to see her so dispirited. 

“I draw them to me, time and time again,” said Leia bitterly. “So many good people. And I send them to their deaths. Die, they do. Over and over--" 

"They choose to fight for what they believe in!" Surely she understood? “They need to believe in _something_; they choose to believe in you. You’re a beacon of light in what feels like total darkness, Leia.” Force knew she'd been his for years. “You’re a diamond--the greater the pressure, the brighter you shine."_ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

Tears shone in Leia's eyes. There was a ghost of a smile on her lips as she reached out to touch his cheek. “You and your compliments,” she said softly. “I can always count on you for those.” 

"You can count on me for anything.” Surely she knew that by now. Their fingers laced themselves together. “You give us hope," he insisted.

"False hope--"

"Never. This isn't like you, Leia.”

"What, to be realistic? Look at the odds.”

"Never tell me the odds!” Blue fire burned in Ransolm’s eyes. “They're irrelevant! I'd never bet against you. Who would?" 

_Never tell me the odds.___ Han’s words.

_ __ _

_ __ _

Leia straightened. "You can't know how badly I needed to hear that. Truly you don’t.” For a long moment all she did was look at him. Then those warm brown eyes were smiling, and Leia seemed more like herself. 

In fact, she was smirking. "What are you doing on the floor?” The seating in her stateroom was designed for six but Ransolm was more or less kneeling at her feet. Which must have looked ridiculous. 

"Trying to be of service. Probably failing.” He joined her on the divan, feeling awkward. Leia's head was tilted in that way she had, the one that told Ransolm she was puzzling something out.

"I've been thinking—"

"Which always bodes ill for your enemies," he teased. 

He was taken aback when the princess took his hand. Stars, if only she knew what that did to him - could Leia read his mind? Apparently not. 

"That morning, at breakfast. Tell me, why did you leave?” 

Ransolm looked away. He pulled his hand away, too. 

"You left, and you never came back. Not once — not of your own accord,” she reminded him quietly. “We see each other every day, but nothing is the same. I’ve been reluctant to press you."

His whole body tensed.

"I know it’s not my imagination.” 

Ransolm flushed. He averted his eyes. He owed her an explanation. "Threepio enlightened me as to just how badly I'd overstepped.” His eyes darted to Leia’s hair—he’d touched it without consent. "I didn't realize what helping you like that signified, truly I didn't. You have my sincere apologies.” He registered the moment Leia put the pieces together.

“But you’re not from Alderaan. How would you know? Do you honestly mean to tell me this has all been about my _hair_?” Leia wanted to laugh with relief. Ransolm’s honourable streak ran deeper than most; he was appalled with himself for that business about taking her hair down. Threepio must have ‘educated’ him. How had she never guessed? __

_ __ _

_ __ _

And yet, there was more. There had to be. Why hadn’t Ransolm apologized, if he felt so badly about it? That wasn’t like him at all. He had to know she would have forgiven him— not that there was anything to forgive.

The silence grew uncomfortably long. Ransolm stared down at his hands as if he hated them, and when Leia reached out to touch him on the shoulder he actually flinched.

"Oh, Ransolm," she whispered sadly. _He'll seem like himself, and then he won't._ Harter Kalonia's words. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

She finally understood, and for once she didn’t mentally curse Poe Dameron for his role in making sure of it. Leia inched closer and gently put her arms around the man who sat next to her so stiffly, frozen into some awful place in his mind. She could feel his pulse racing.

She chose her next words carefully. "You would never lay a hand on me that I wouldn't welcome. Not ever. You and I both know that." She felt him let out a ragged breath. Neither spoke, and Leia leaned her head against his shoulder. When he finally looked at her again, an unutterable sadness was in Ransolm’s blue eyes—

Which definitely called for tea. 

Leia made it, poured it, and when they’d finally finished drinking it she sat back, rolling her shoulders as though she had a knot in them. She turned her head from side to side for good measure, keeping her tone brisk and businesslike: “It’s probably too much to ask...” She turned her back to him, rubbing at her shoulder. The hint was impossible to miss.

As if he could deny Leia anything, ever. Taking a shaky breath, he did as she asked; tentatively at first, but then with a touch so gentle, yet so loaded with tension-- 

Leia sighed beneath Ransolm’s warm, strong hands. He alternated between firm strokes and gentle pressure, his touches feather-light as he moved from her shoulders to along her neck, and gliding over her upper arms.

Ransolm said absolutely nothing, closing his eyes and feeling his way through the worst of the tension. Not that another wasn’t building, one he struggled with after what the First Ord—

He forced those memories away, focussing on Leia’s breathing, on his own, on what flared between them—stars, he’d never touched her, not like this. He’d dreamt of it for years, but never imagined it possible. Did she have the faintest idea what this was actually _doing_ to him? __

_ __ _

_ __ _

He coaxed soft sighs from her now, small sounds he couldn’t help but imagine in even more intimate circumstances—a fool’s wish--

“Leia,” he breathed. His hands stilled, resting on her shoulders. “I’ve done all I can, perhaps it’s best we return to control—“

“To the control room. Of course,” said Leia quickly.

“Agreed.”

+

A quick trip to the control room confirmed the worst. 

“I’ll make the announcement in the morning,” said Leia.

“And Ackbar?”

Leia sighed. “We’ll tell Aftab, along with the rest of high command. Let’s speak to him first. He’ll need to prepare himself for what he’s going to tell his people in the morning.”

Ransolm nodded. 

+

Life was a gift, exactly the reason she wasn’t going to cut this party short with bleak tidings. News of Mon Cala could keep for most of the Resistance.

Leia wasn’t aware of the wistful expression on her face as she watched the celebration around her. A surprising number of people were dancing, and the room was crowded with groups of people, some of them laughing, some of them chatting, all of them enjoying an all-too-brief respite from their admittedly desperate existence.

Gial Ackbar’s son was in the far corner, having what looked like a very animated discussion with Charth Brethen and a few others she couldn’t make out in the dim light.

Leia smiled to herself, because Poe Dameron and Finn were in the opposite corner. They were being subtle, but the Force positively thrummed between the pair of them. Just then, Poe leaned over, draping his arm around Finn’s shoulder and leaving it there long after he’d said something into the younger man’s ear. Leia wondered how she’d missed the signs. 

As for the man she stood next to—

“Shall we?” Ransolm held out his hand. He might as well have read her mind, and they reached the dance floor just in time for one of her favourites. 

There was faint surprise on a few faces around them, probably because these kids figured their General was too decrepit to do a whole lot more than stand up, especially after that trip into the vacuum. It might be fun to show them a thing or two. She definitely had the partner for that. Fun—it felt like a foreign concept. 

Did Ransolm feel what she did? The Force sang with the possibility. Or had he asked her to dance only because he remembered her telling him how much she loved to? She couldn’t recall the occasion, but knew she’d joked with him about dancing with Bail Organa for hours on end. 

What mattered in this moment was solely the connection between them—the purity, the clarity, the trust—Ransolm was a splendid partner of course, a masterful enough dancer that Leia knew she could close her eyes and revel in the temporary freedom of not having to lead anyone, or anything else at all. So she did. 

When she opened them again, Ransolm was smiling down at her with light in his eyes, this man she’d once thought of as so young, so arrogant—Ransolm had lost both of those qualities; what he hadn’t lost were his finest ones, and—

Leia’s breath caught as he twirled her away, then back into his arms. Was he holding her more closely now? 

+

She was going to be the death of him. He’d ruined her life—why in the seven hells of Mustafar was Leia Organa so much as dancing with him?

_Because you asked her to, idiot!_ It was only a dance, of course.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

In which he was making an utter fool of himself. Leia moved lightly in his arms, so graceful and effortless to partner. His job as her foil was easy, for she danced as beautifully as she shone. But Force, Leia was a Jedi—surely she could tell that she lit every last one of his nerve endings on fire?

His jacket was still on a crate in the far corner, and the final humiliation? His body had begun betraying him, in a manner that could only be forgiven in someone decades younger. The solution for that was hardly an option, not at all—

And then Leia moved closer of her own accord. Which meant that she knew everything. 

She didn’t pull away, so neither did he. “Perhaps we should speak with Ackbar,” he managed.

“Yes.”

They retrieved his jacket only when the dance ended.

Together, they found Gial Ackbar’s son and gave him the news of Mon Cala in private. He tried not to fall apart under the burden of what his decision had cost his beloved homeworld, the same one he fought to protect.

Leia was a tower of strength, no surprise.

+

She asked him to her quarters after meeting with high command. Together they made a pot of tea, with Leia wishing out loud for honey. 

Ransolm smiled, telling her he knew a place—Riosa, of course. And she curled up on the divan with her feet tucked beneath her as they talked, pulling pins out of her hair and scattering them on the table beside the teapot.

She told him to take off his boots, which he did, and Leia laughed at his expression when she kicked them under the table. It felt good to laugh again, no one ever made him laugh like Leia could.

He relaxed—it was so easy to, with her—stretching his arms over the back of the divan. Leia was combing her fingers through her hair as they chatted, plaiting it into the same style she’d worn back in their Senate days. He had no idea what that signified, or if it meant anything at all, but Leia was excellent company and always had been.

He was exhausted, but Ransolm fought against it. He had no idea what time it was and decided it didn’t matter. Leia’s head was resting against his outstretched arm when she smiled up at him:

“Tell me how it’s going to be—after. When we’ve won.”

Leia was asking _him?_ Surely the picture she had in her mind was clear enough for both of them. He tried to convince her that he hadn’t given it much thought, what any form of government might look like after the First Order was defeated, but of course she didn’t buy it for a minute. “You know me so well!” he murmured. __

_ _ He started talking, she listened intently. She toyed with the fabric of his shirt. He was more than a little surprised she didn’t pepper him with questions._ _

_ _ “We need someone to build bridges,” Leia said, and snuggled against him. Her head soon grew heavy against his chest, but she wanted him to keep talking. So he did. _ _

_ _ He wasn’t sure exactly when she fell asleep, but was very sure he didn’t want to leave._ _

_ _ He stopped fighting his tiredness, and soon Ransolm was just as soundly asleep as the princess. _ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

+

Leia woke first, the weight of a masculine arm flung across her. She lay with her back to Ransolm’s front and felt him against her, hot and alive.

She could have edged away. She could have done many things, but she didn’t, arching her back instead—

He stirred, a sleepy hand roaming, finding the soft swell of her breast as he mumbled something in his sleep. Leia’s hand kept his exactly where it was.

She registered the moment he was fully awake.

“Do you want this?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +
> 
> The Resistance ends up with a fleet of starships and Gial Ackbar’s son after a Resistance mission to Mon Cala, but I have no idea how any of that happens in canon.


	16. Chapter 16

+

_No!___

_ __ _

_ __ _

Everything was that much worse.

The cargo bay was empty after last night's celebration and Ransolm moved through a series of elite Hosnian forms, determined to centre himself.

_Of course she would.___

_ __ _

_ __ _

Leia had an uncanny, _Force-aided_ ability to determine exactly what those around her needed. Last night had been proof enough.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

In a matter of hours, she'd carried on in the face of a disaster she’d been virtually alone in sensing, calmed her distraught apprentice - her _Jedi_ apprentice! - kept guilt from tearing a promising young leader to pieces, steered high command along as calmly as ever, and then succeeded in turning a disaster that ought to have demoralized every last one of them into the theme of an address so inspirational the Resistance felt stronger than ever.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

She had an astonishing ability to give people exactly what they needed, precisely when they needed it. 

In his case, that apparently included an absolutely mind-blowing-- 

"Pfassk!" Tar Har exclaimed, switching on the overhead lights to find Ransolm in their glare. "Sorry to be so crude, man. But seriously?” He shook his head, ambling over to his instructor, wondering at the expression on the man's face —and wondering why he’d been in an unlit space to begin with. 

Judging it best to take his time with his warm-up stretches, Tar made an observation: "You know, Casterfo? You've spent more than enough time in the dark these past few years. Ever considered giving that up?"

The grav-ball star finished his warmup before grabbing his wooden quarterstaff and getting matter-of-factly into position for their session. A muscle twitched in Casterfo's jaw. The man obviously wanted to hit something - good thing that wasn't going to be a problem.

They moved through their forms easily, with Tar enjoying how his muscles strained on account of the exercise. Other than Rose, this was always a highlight of his day. He was definitely improving and didn't need a teacher to tell him so.

The tension gradually left Casterfo's face, enough for Tar to decide it was time to talk. Casterfo didn't normally allow chatter during sessions, but today already felt like an exception to the rule. Time to lighten the mood - if he could.

"You and Charth were right about all that poetry. Turns out I didn't need it after all."

"How so?" 

Much better. "A gentleman never tells, of course - " their staves clashed again and Tar spun away from Casterfo's next attack, which gained him a nod of approval. "But Rose won't mind me saying that she kissed me. Because she did. Last night, in front of everybody." Tar beamed.

"I'm happy for you." Ransolm was, though he doubted it was written all over his face.

"Of course, that was when you were busy - with the General and all."

Ransolm flushed, which Tar attributed to their strenuous session. This was good cardio, which had been lacking in prison. To his surprise, he caught Casterfo off guard and struck a blow to his shin. He knew better than to apologize. Casterfo immediately indicated his intention to resume, and their weapons clashed again.

"It was pretty tough to hear the news this morning, of course. To think that we had all of their ships..." Tar shook his head. Without those ships, there had been no escape for the people of Mon Cala when the First Order struck.

Tar found his footwork improved if he talked at the same time, and was very glad that Casterfo hadn't put an end to it yet. "That was one heck of a speech the General gave this morning! Rumour has it you're good at those yourself." Casterfo's blows became more intense, matching his expression. 

"She's a legend, isn't she?” Tar continued, his admiration plain. “Look at all she's done. She'll find a way to win this fight. All we need to do is put our faith in her, our trust in her--we’re going to take it to the First Order, Casterfo—“

"We most certainly will!" Ransolm snapped. He'd had enough, and he wasn’t referring to Tar Har. "That’s precisely why I'm going to Riosa." He flung his staff aside in what Tar Har viewed as an uncharacteristic show of temper.

Fortunately, Tar knew better than to assume that anger was directed at him. "Riosa? Does that mean I get to come along?"

"No!" said Ransolm sharply, instantly regretting his tone. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "My apologies for speaking so harshly, Tar. But I'm afraid that simply isn't possible. Not this time."

There were things a man needed to do for himself.

+


	17. Senator of Riosa

+

Olen Valmis of Riosan Planetary Security strode toward the room where the bounty hunter waited.

_Ransolm Casterfo_ \- a name he hadn't spoken aloud in years, one no Riosan would ever forget. What business did this stranger have, asking after Casterfo here? Why now? Such questions needed to be answered to Olen's satisfaction. __

_ __ _

He studied the tall, helmeted new arrival through one-way transparisteel. Why would anyone who called himself bounty hunter relinquish his weapons so readily? Why had he asked for Olen by name?

+

The visitor's chair scraped back against the duracrete floor as he stood and nodded when Olen entered the interrogation room. 

Whatever his species, the stranger was a shade taller than the average Riosan. Perhaps he was actually human, and his helmet and air filter were intended to mislead. So much was an elaborate deception these days - by necessity, for Riosa was essentially under the First Order’s thumb.

"Olen Valmis. Thank you for seeing me,” came the voice through the helmet’s modulator.

He was recognized on sight? Trepidation prickled at the back of Olen's neck. He set his sonic neutralizer on the table between them, indicating that his 'guest’ should take his seat. He pulled out a chair for himself opposite. Elbows on the table, the captain steepled his fingers and waited. 

The masked figure appeared to be studying him. Just when Valmis had concluded this was all a waste of time, he spoke: "Ransolm Casterfo has escaped First Order custody, thanks to Leia Organa." 

Olen sucked in a breath of surprise. He schooled his face into revealing nothing more of his sentiments on _that_ particular subject.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

"And?" Did he sound neutral? 

"And, Casterfo and ten of the fifteen First Order dissidents rescued from Corellia have joined the Resistance."

Olen was uncomfortable but hung on the stranger's every word.

"You know this to be truth? Not rumour?" It _was_ true, then - that shocking Hevasi Joy recording suggested as much. It was making the rounds in defiance of First Order censorship. More than one Riosan could hum it, though most of them knew enough not to.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

The grav-ball star thought to have died in a prison riot was clearly visible in the video. So was that former Stormtrooper, the one who’d irritated the First Order enough to warrant a bounty that would guarantee its taker a pleasant retirement. Casterfo had been referred to, but not seen in the footage. 

His masked visitor nodded. 

"You suspect the traitor, Casterfo, would make his way to Riosa? Is that what brings you here?" _Tread carefully, Olen._ Surely this stranger couldn’t know of their connection?__

_ __ _

_ __ _

"I am quite certain of it, Olen Valmis." With that, he pulled off his mask.

Valmis nearly leaped over the table to embrace the last person he’d expected to see, admonishing Ransolm to put the blasted helmet back on in case his orders weren’t followed to the letter and they were discovered.

"I can’t believe it!" whispered Olen, shaking Ransolm by the shoulders.“We’d always feared the worst.” They’d been new recruits together years ago, before Ransolm had moved on from Riosa’s planetary defense force. 

“None of us believed you capable of treachery, Casterfo. Of murder? Terrorism? Never! Not us, not here, not on Riosa - not those of us who knew you. And now, we know exactly why you were taken down to begin with,” he added grimly.

Casterfo gave him a relieved smile. "Can you get me to her, Olen?"

"You know I can."

+

The crunch of footsteps on pea gravel marked their passage through the sprawling gardens of Riosa's senatorial palace. The palace itself was modest but the grounds were extensive, ideal for a meeting as private as this one.

"Have you lost whatever sense you ever possessed, Ransolm? It verges on madness, coming back to us as you have.”

Ransolm smiled as he patted the hand resting lightly on his arm. Senator Kuula Teda spoke with nothing but fondness.

Cloaked in shadows, the arching branches of mature trees obscured them from view in the gathering darkness. Kuula was known to stroll in the gardens no matter the hour, and even to tend to them herself. Given the political climate, that was a convenient habit to have cultivated.

"How could I stay away? Leia Organa had me rescued from Corellia. I expect you can guess my intentions." Namely, to give the First Order hell the best way he knew.

"But the Resistance - it died! As did Luke Skywalker, though some say his sacrifice saved the Resistance." Kuula shook her head. "It’s difficult to know what to believe, in these times of fear and rumour."

"I should think that proof of the latter is obvious."

"Indeed. For here you are, yet I can help you so little." They walked a little further in silence, pale blooms nodding at them when a breeze stirred the leaves.

"How do you mean to go forward, Kuula?” Ransolm studied her profile as they moved through the shadows. “Olen tells me the First Order intends to reestablish Riosa as a centre of manufacturing, that it promises to pay good wages - "

"And you well remember what comes next! Or did, with the Empire.” She clutched his arm so hard her fingernails dug in. "You, better than most, remember - along with what we must expect, given what horrors we’ve already witnessed.” 

Older than Ransolm but younger than Leia, Kuula was part of a generation that narrowly escaped what had begun as paid labour to construct the Empire's Death Stars. Wages had ceased as production quotas rose, and the entire planet had essentially become one vast labour camp. People had suffered under conditions that eventually killed millions. Ransolm's parents had been among those to have paid the ultimate price for the Empire’s brutality, as were Kuula Teda’s.

Years of starvation and deprivation had followed.

Like Ransolm, Kuula was fortunate enough to have been rescued by the kindness of others, those with off-world wealth or connections. Both had chosen political life as a means of bettering the lot of their fellow citizens, for Riosa’s misery had stretched well into the days of the New Republic. The Republic’s absence and neglect were keenly felt, the reason Riosa tended to elect politicians with Centrist leanings.

Kuula had run for office years ago against a young, charismatic Ransolm Casterfo, backing his bid for a seat in the Senate when her own chances of winning had dimmed next to his rising star.

"You wouldn't believe the games we have to play, Ransolm," she said sadly. The sonic neutralizer tucked into her pocket was second nature, but Kuula kept her voice low all the same - even though the palace gardens were clear of all but her droids. “Managing our situation is like walking on a tightrope. I’ll dance there if I have to.” The First Order couched their intentions in pleasant terms. However, history had taught her to fear the worst. 

Kuula Teda gestured for Ransolm to enter a pavilion overlooking a small, ornamental lake. Fairy light candledroids twinkled overhead when they came to a table elegantly set for two.

"It's been years since I've had the pleasure--"

"It's been years since you've had any pleasures at all, I'm sure. What you must have survived! Though I’m not surprised you did. You always were a stubborn one. Come, enjoy." Kuula smiled as Ransolm seated her before taking his own place. Their place settings gleamed under the light of the candledroids.

Much remained the same at Riosa’s senatorial palace, so the kitchen droids still had records of his favourites. Ransolm poured the wine the serving droid proffered. It whisked the covers from their plates and disappeared. The senators, past and present, clinked glasses in a toast neither spoke aloud.

“As it stands, my job consists chiefly of convincing the powers that be that Riosa is _delighted_ to be of service to the First Order— that we embrace the ‘opportunity’ it offers,” said Kuula sourly, as if the wine in her crystal goblet had suddenly turned foul. “You know very well that Riosa has no means of resisting. We are toothless.“__

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Blessed with little more than our own stubbornness?” A smile tugged at the corner of Ransolm’s mouth. “Which means that little has changed in my absence.” He swirled the contents of his glass before sampling it.

Kuula laughed. “That’s where you’re wrong—and please, begin. It wouldn’t do to let your meal cool. Force knows when you’ll see another.” 

Certainly not a meal like this, though Resistance rations were more appetizing than anything he’d choked down in First Order custody. “You’ve heard the news of Mon Cala?”

Kuula’s fork paused midair. “It's true? What the First Order did there? Official reports paint a a starkly different picture from the one I’ve heard - which amounts to a whisper of a rumour from a source I’m not entirely certain of.” She narrowed her eyes.

“Your source was correct, as is your intention to play a double game.” Ransolm smiled, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Have you given any thought to turning me in? That would go a long way toward enhancing your reputation in the eyes of the First Order.” 

“Idiot man! Part of me wants to join you. My husband will certainly wish to, as will my sons, and Force knows Olen wants to—but I cannot allow it.”

“Agreed,” said Ransolm softly. “If anyone close to you were found to be a Resistance sympathizer, your position would be jeopardized. The Order would appoint a puppet in your place - among other things.” 

“Precisely,” she breathed. “I have people I trust - good people. We have the beginnings of an underground which may, in time, prove useful to you - providing they don't block the hyperspace lanes. In the meantime, there's always industrial sabotage."

“Force, Kuula - you’ll have to be careful.” 

“More careful than you?” She tried to sound flippant but was deadly serious. “We Riosans _are_ clever - or had you forgotten? What’s more, we’re motivated. We already know what happens if we fail. __

_ _ Despite being an occupied world, more than a few of our best and brightest - those who haven’t fled - are working on how to accomplish our...modest goals. Which means I throw a lot of parties these days.” She raised her glass._ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Of course you do.” Ransolm clinked his goblet against Kuula’s. Kuula Teda had quite a reputation as a hostess, which would serve her well in light of what she meant to accomplish in plain sight of the First Order.

They avoided discussing what brought him there for the remainder of the meal, but Kuula was blunt when they finished dessert. “It should have been you, Ransolm! Here, protecting our people as best you can. The First Order took you down, but it should have been you.”

“I’m not sure I’m clever enough to play that game.” Ransolm didn’t think it suited him anyway.

“I’m _quite_ sure I’m not clever enough to play the one you’ve set out for yourself! Speaking of which, you can hardly go about your business looking like that."__

__ She pursed her lips as she swept her eyes over the plain grey flight suit Ransolm wore as part of his disguise. “Princess Leia’s emissary-- I assume that’s your role?” He gave a slight nod._ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

“The tailor droids had your measurements. There was suitable fabric at hand, thanks to what my husband ordered for himself. He won’t mind if he gets new clothing this week or next. _You_ must leave Riosan soil by dawn.” Kuula checked the comm at her wrist. “Both jackets are already finished. I hope the colours agree with you. Two pairs of boots have just arrived—“ __

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Kuula! I’m hardly the chit in that fairy story!” 

“The one about the pumpkin? And the prince? Though I suppose it's princess in your case—and you’re definitely an orphan." She laughed without humour. This war was no fairy tale, Kuula understood the importance of armour, and Ransolm was beyond grateful for her foresight. He wouldn’t inspire confidence looking like an object of pity - not where he planned to go next.

“My boys. You remember them?”

“Of course! The twins—“ 

“Both of them fine young men,” she said proudly of her teenaged sons. “But they’re about to get a little wild. They’re going to take their father’s ship on a joyride—“

Ransolm’s eyes widened. 

“—to coordinates I’m giving you, where no one will ask too many questions. Two young men testing their boundaries, you understand?” 

He did now. Kuula tossed a fob onto the table, the type that called a ship remotely. “Too bad a smuggler - or thief, or whatever you’d like to consider yourself - will be close at hand. And don’t worry, Kaspar’s been wanting to replace the Jeconne for some time. He won’t be upset to be forced to.”

She was giving him her husband’s ship—

“Our boys will then ‘humiliate’ themselves by calling their parents when their ride ‘disappears’, but I expect their part in getting it to the Resistance should go a long way toward satisfying any of their heroic aspirations for the time being - especially when I tell them who they’ve helped, which I’ll do when they’re safely home.

That ship will contain as many pilots as Olen manages to round up in the next three hours—Force knows how he intends to explain their disappearance. I shall leave that in his capable hands; it’s best if I know nothing of the details.” She drained the contents of her wineglass, which Ransolm promptly refilled.

“As for starfighters, Olen has located seven decommissioned vessels in salvageable shape and is altering records to release a few more, though those will actually be fit to fly. 

All of the fighters will be towed to a particular scrapyard in short order, the details of which will be on a datacard aboard the Jeconne - encrypted, of course.” She held a small card out for a his thumbprint authorization, one that could be loaded with information but only retrieved by Ransolm.

“Thank you, Kuula. I’m well aware of the risks you’re taking.”

“I backed you once." 

“You’ve done it again.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “We both know this is next to nothing. Your name could raise a thousand ships here on Riosa, Ransolm - tens of thousands of pilots in a matter of minutes. Perhaps that day will come, but for now, the risk is simply too great. For if you did, the First Order would retaliate, swiftly and harshly. Hundreds of millions would be forced to pay the price—immediately.”

Kuula gazed out over the tranquil lake and the peaceful gardens, a rare oasis bordered by manicured hedges, beyond which stretched broad swathes of unspoiled nature on a world that still bore the scars of Imperial ruin and New Republic neglect. The last rays of Riosan sun painted the sky in crimsons and golds. 

“It was a proud day for our world, the day you and Princess Leia stood together in the senate. We'd never had a moment in the sun before, not like that. It felt like the beginning of something new, something better.” She shook her head. “We knew not to believe the charges levied against you, especially in light of what came next.” She saw that he’d looked away.

“I imagine you despise the thought of it now, but do you recall your...collection?”

It sickened him to think of the wall of Imperial artifacts he’d displayed with such pride, the one that had so incensed Leia. Unlike some of his fellow Centrists, Ransolm hadn’t ever yearned for a _return_ to the Empire. He’d believed in examining the elements that had actually worked, in the hope it could strengthen the foundering New Republic. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

“It’s blown to stardust along with the rest of the Hosnian system, but that collection of yours helped save my life. Your fate, along with Leia Organa’s, made it plain enough to some of us that you’d been intentionally removed - and so, we knew to be cautious. 

I professed to admire that wall of helmets, Ransolm. I played the devoted Centrist, and because of it was ordered to leave Hosnian Prime in time to escape the cataclysm. We had no idea what was coming. Many, many Centrist senators are deeply shaken by the First Order’s actions, but wise enough to keep quiet about it in public. I know exactly who you’re likely to find sympathetic to your cause, not that you wouldn’t have your own suspicions.”

Ransolm inclined his head in thanks as she began reciting a list of names too sensitive to commit to any datacard. He repeated it back to her and she nodded in satisfaction.

“You know why most Populist senators died in the Hosnian cataclysm and why most now have puppets in their places. I’m sure you’re aware that people are disappearing, all across the galaxy, and that many more have been silenced—“

“Cut off the head - that’s how it’s done,” he interjected harshly.

Kuula nodded. Then she slipped the chalcedony signet from her finger and folded it into Ransolm’s palm. Concealed beneath a First Order emblem was the symbol of Riosa, revealed with a simple twist. “Make them regret the one that got away,” she said fiercely. 

"You’re a true son of Riosa - perhaps the one who’ll save us in the end.”

\+ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None of these new characters or settings exist anywhere except inside my head.
> 
> Ransolm Casterfo was once part of the Riosan planetary defense force, though. That much is canon.


	18. Chapter 18

+

He was back.

Leia's heart did something it hadn't in a very long time when Ransolm stepped off the flashy little ship he’d shown up in. The hulk he'd left on was back now too, along with several combat-ready fighters and half a dozen salvageable ones. 

No wonder he looked so pleased with himself.

In glossy black boots and a cloak of midnight blue, he radiated confidence, smiling and laughing as he introduced a cluster of Riosan pilots to Poe Dameron. It went beyond the rare flashes of humour or glimmers of insight he'd displayed in public.

He had some sort of carton in his hands and was obviously searching for someone over everybody else's heads. Leia held out hope that it was for her, but then his face brightened at the sight of Hevasi Joy. Had she gotten the farewell Leia hadn't? 

"I'll be in my quarters.” Leia turned on her heel to leave the scene unfolding some distance away. ‘Snap’ Wexley seemed surprised to hear her say so, but at that point Leia didn't care. Dameron was capable of dealing with the newcomers. 

+

The carton was for Leia. 

She accepted the gift without meeting his eyes, setting the box on the table. Ransolm had shown up moments after she’d reached her quarters.

"It’s not nearly enough to make amends," he said quietly. He wasn't surprised she was upset.

“You left without a word.” 

_ __ _

_ __ _

"It was poorly done on my part." 

Leia blinked back tears she hadn’t expected and tamped down her anger. Ransolm had certainly hurt her, but he hadn't torn out a piece of her soul. He wasn't the husband who'd left her so often--who hadn't returned until it was almost too late.

He was her friend and they'd ended up in bed. _Because you wanted him there!_ she reminded herself. It was entirely possible he'd had other plans. Leia was caught between wanting to wring his neck or fling her arms around it. She settled for meeting his eyes.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

“I didn't want to see the regret on your face.” His admission surprised her. 

In fact, for a moment Leia didn’t think she’d heard him properly. "Regret?" she repeated. "That’s what you expected?"

"You’re newly widowed. Grieving. This had to be the _last_ thing you wanted. You’ve pieced together a Resistance from next to nothing, you've basically done the same to me. But I _won't_ have your pity Leia, and we both know that's exactly what it _was_! Let us speak no more of it.”____

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

__

__

_ __ _

_ __ _

It took a lot to make Leia’s jaw drop. _“Speak no more of it?” _ They'd barely gotten started! “Pity?" she sputtered, feeling the colour rush to her cheeks. "That's the last thing I'd call it!" But she saw pain in Ransolm’s eyes.__

_ __ _

He blinked.

_ __ _

“Did you somehow miss the part where I seduced you?” Leia flung her arms out to the sides, incredulous.

“Seduced me? That’s the name you’re giving to your mercy mission?”

_ __ _

_ __ _

So, the floodgates were well and truly open—

“I beg your pardon?” 

”I destroyed your life! How I must revolt you, repulse you!" 

“That’s the torture talking, not you!” Leia's eyes flashed.

“Hardly! It wasn’t enough for me to dash your political career to pieces, to betray your trust in horrendous fashion—oh, no—not by half!” Ransolm was more than a little wild-eyed, but Leia was relieved he was finally voicing what must have tormented him for so long.

"We could have stopped the Order’s rise, Leia! _You_ were the First Senator we needed! Imagine-- we would have worked together. We could have saved the New Republic, united the senate in common purpose--we might have stopped everything!_ But I ruined that chance with my colossal lack of judgment!” ___

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

__

__

___ Leia knew better than to interrupt—this had festered too long.___

_ _ _ “That wasn’t enough, either!” Ransolm shouted, more at himself than at Leia. “I had to rob you of the chance to tell your son the truth--- and we know how well _that_ turned out! All these years...I had no idea. Not until you told me." He gave a soft, joyless laugh. ___

___ “To think I swore I’d kill another Vader—I ended up creating one instead!” Ransolm wanted to throw up.___

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

“It wasn’t your fault—“ Leia was murmuring something that barely registered--

“_How can you say that?_ The timing fits! Ben Solo was lost _only_ after he found out the truth of his heritage--which I am responsible for having revealed! In essence, I created the monster that murdered your husband! How can you stand to look at me, much less--” Ransolm's voice trailed off and a wave of nausea overtook him._ _

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

“_I hope you get absolutely everything in life that you deserve_—that’s what you shrieked at me, the day you tore my office apart! And I have, Leia—“ he'd clearly reached his breaking point. “I think I finally have.”__

_ __ _

_ __ _

He wasn’t aware of anything else for a time, only of Leia, who by some miracle was cradling his face, stroking his hair. He fought to pull himself together-- he'd humiliated himself all over again; he’d have to live with it. At least he knew what he had to do next.

“It might feel like that, but you’re wrong,” Leia said quietly. And waited.

His breathing steadied, his heart rate slowed. Ransolm got to his feet, followed the princess, and sat down beside her when she asked him to.

Leia waited a little longer before saying what had to be said. She wanted him composed, in the frame of mind to hear her. “You were a catalyst, certainly not the cause.” She smoothed a lock of hair out of his eyes. 

“One hell of a catalyst, then." He couldn’t believe she was touching him.

"You know, you're more than a little full of yourself, if you think you managed to make this mess on your own." Leia smiled, reaching out to cup his face. “And here I thought you’d grown out of that.” Her voice was gentle.

She was teasing him? Impossible. But then she brushed a kiss to his forehead. 

"As for bringing down the entire New Republic? It was doomed, Ransolm. Completely dysfunctional—as if I have to remind you! You’re the one who called it a joke to begin with, only none of us laughed, because all of us knew you were right.” 

She shook her head. “By making sure I couldn’t be elected First Senator, you may have helped put it out of its misery. But that's all. And I think we're flattering ourselves by thinking we could have stopped the First Order. It was too well established by the time of your arrest.”

Leia was right of course-- at least about the first part, though he’d punished himself for years by arguing the opposite. In his head. He wasn't so sure about the second, even if Leia seemed to be. "But your family --"

“Is a bit more complicated. You were right about that, too. I should have told Ben the truth. I made mistakes, plenty of them. So did Han, so did Luke, but what you said in the open senate? That’s not what tipped Ben over the edge. There was more to it than that, believe me. It doesn't help to blame yourself."

Ransolm didn't want argue with her. The last thing he wanted to do was argue with Leia Organa. 

“Anything else you'd like to get off your chest? That was a lot to carry around." Guilt worked like that. 

Ransolm shook his head. He felt so much lighter—

"As for Han...” Leia paused. “My son killed his father. But my husband? He left me years ago, Ransolm. The truth is, I've been alone for a very long time.” 

Ransolm was stunned. Princess Leia, an abandoned wife? Inconceivable. But he'd never understood how Captain Solo could stand to be away from his wife for such long stretches, a wife who clearly loved him. Who was suddenly kissing Ransolm--

“Leia?” He pulled back.

“Is this the part where you tell me you’re the one with regrets? You danced with someone else that night. She’s young, she’s beautiful, she’s definitely no museum piece—“

“Don’t be ridiculous!" Another kiss, a deeper one. Leia had him carry her to the adjoining chamber. She’d invited him to train here weeks ago. He’d assumed it was because the space was unfinished, unused. With the exception of a built-in bed in the corner it was also empty. This part of Leia’s stateroom was an unwelcome reminder that she'd slept alone for more years than fingers on her hand, and that it hadn't been by choice.

She made one now, admitting there was a moment she’d have done anything-- anything at all --to get Ransolm back when they’d dragged him away in that hangar bay on Hosnian Prime. She hadn’t; there hadn’t been a blaster in her hands.

They weren't then what they were now.

It felt like a dream to Ransolm, a beautiful, completely impossible dream. She told him he didn’t need to let down her hair, not every time, but he wanted to—and did. 

And for once in his life he held nothing back.

+

She was beauty and grace and steel and fire, and the hair on the top of her head tickled the tip of his nose as she lay beside him later.

He more than felt alive again; he’d never felt so happy in his life.

+

She slipped out of bed to investigate the carton he’d brought back from Riosa, her waist-length hair a curtain of silk that swayed as she sauntered in that direction.

Goosebumps pebbled her skin until he wrapped her in his cloak. He wasn’t cold, not with Leia on his lap exclaiming over fresh honey still in its comb, taken straight from the apiary of Riosa's senatorial palace.

“You _were_ whining,” Ransolm teased, kissing her temple. About honey, of course. Never about Mon Cala, Kylo Ren or the whole damned First Order.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Their foreheads bumped together as Leia wound her arms around him for another kiss. The last time she’d had honeycomb was at a gallery opening on Gatalenta, accompanied by champagne and the sparkling Amilyn Holdo.

She told him of Amilyn then, of her oldest friend - of her warmth and wisdom, her quirkiness, her loyalty - of how they’d met, their time as junior legislators, and of how she’d gone on to become one with the stars she’d so loved, all in the name of saving the freedom they both believed in.

She cried a little, then a lot, and Ransolm made a strong pot of Gatalentan tea.

Then it was time to speak of Han, not that she’d do it again. That would hardly be fair. But Ransolm needed to hear it and to understand why she needed to say it.

+

Perched on his knee a little later, she leaned over to snag another bit of honeycomb from the carton. Her sticky fingers made it impossible to keep the hair from falling into her face; thankfully Ransolm pulled it out of the way.

“I don’t suppose you know how to braid?” Leia laughed, daintily licking the tips of her fingers.

“I think I might," he smiled. He’d plaited vines into ropes as a pathfinder. That led to more stories, since Leia had also done her fair share of pathfinding. She’d met Amilyn that way, along with a young man from Alderaan. She talked of Kier to Ransolm, too.

Kier Domadi, the lover who’d betrayed her, who’d lost his life in nearly betraying the hidden Rebel Alliance. It wasn’t lost on Ransolm that _he_ had betrayed Leia, but that now he was her lover —who fought with the Resistance. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

It took a few attempts but his fingers were clever and the third time proved a charm, resulting a thick, glossy braid that hung down her back.

“If you ever have a daughter, you’ll have mastered one requirement!” Leia laughed but Ransolm couldn’t, because her lighthearted comment suggested a future without her.

But then Leia captured him with eyes the colour of rich, dark chocolate, and she trailed her fingertips along the stubble of his jaw, kissing him deeply, hungrily—

Which led them back to bed again—

“I think I’ve changed my mind about princesses.” Ransolm’s voice was rough and silk and Leia thought she’d die on the spot from the sound of it— 

“Is that so?” The princess in question arched an elegant brow.

He punctuated his reply with exceptionally well-placed kisses. “This one ought to be spoiled.

Very.

Thoroughly. 

Spoiled.”

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +
> 
> Because Leia has suffered alone for too many years.
> 
> Plus:
> 
> "Was I just called a spoiled brat by a _princess?_" He held out his arms, incredulous in his anger._  
  
+_  
_  
_“In that instant, her anger rose to a nearly uncontrollable fury. If she’d had a blaster, she might have fired it. Her rage could have driven her to kill others—innocents—just to make sure Ransolm Casterfo didn’t have to needlessly die._  
_ _  
_She realized, then, something she had never fully understood before. She’d always wondered what had led her father to turn to the dark side, to become Darth Vader. She’d imagined it came from ambition, greed, or some other venal weakness. Never had she considered that the turn might begin in a better place, out of the desire to save someone or avenge a great wrong. Even if it led to evil, that first impulse might be born of loyalty, a sense of justice, or even love.”_  
_
> 
> _  
_~Claudia Gray, “Bloodline”_  
_


	19. Chapter 19

+

"Did you at least get an autograph?" Suralinda enjoyed ribbing Snap.

He was the last person she'd ever have pegged as a fan of Hevasi Joy, who was making her farewells near the boarding ramp. Snap snapped his fingers and pretended not to hear.

"She wrote him a poem," grinned Karé, and her husband's ears reddened. When Vasi learned more of her rescuers she'd written a few verses just for Snap. At Karé’s urging, she'd inscribed them on a piece of scrap metal using the attachment on Rose Tico's soldering iron.

Snap Wexley smiled to himself as Karé squeezed his hand. People could still surprise him, including his new wife. A bigger surprise was that Leia Organa had just brushed a speck of lint from Casterfo's jacket. 

But then the former senator moved away to escort the man known as Archex up the ramp of the shuttle he was about to pilot to Cerea. 

Charth Brethen was already aboard, along with his amazingly well-mannered offspring. Their grandfather was waving to them through the cockpit viewport. Hevasi would act as their tutor and guardian on the sleepy backwater world they were bound for. They ought to be a whole lot safer on Cerea than they were with the Resistance. 

Would he and Karé live long enough to have kids? He hadn't given any thought to it--- not until now.

+

The General was right in front of her; Leia Organa herself. Hevasi was surprised she'd come to see her off. Despite the kind light in the older woman’s eyes, it was slightly intimidating. 

But she really was smiling at Hevasi, which meant it was time to stop acting stunned and say something.

"I owe you my life, Princess Leia. I'll never be able to thank you enough." Vasi cringed inside when she realized she'd used the royal title. The General was known to dislike that, but Hevasi couldn't help but think of her as a princess; that was what Ransolm called her. Always. 

She needn't have worried. "You've done more good than you probably know. It suits you." 

Hevasi wasn't sure how to respond to that. What suited her? Her clothing, the cape she liked so much? The princess had looked at it just now, and she’d given it to her to begin with. Or had she meant the part about doing good—meaning, her own small efforts to help the Resistance? 

Leia Organa took her by the shoulders. "When all of this is over, I hope you'll find him." Her warm brown eyes went to the ship and Hevasi's widened. The General was talking about Ransolm? Colour rose in her cheeks--stars, did the woman read minds?

"Of course, General." There, she'd gotten it right this time. Besides, what else could she say? This was the one and only Princess Leia, living legend. Hevasi was still a little shocked to be breathing the same air. Here was the woman Ransolm insisted would save them all, not that she hadn't done it before. No wonder...

"Leia," said the princess. "Remember that."

Hevasi would.

+


	20. Chapter 20

+

"You're jealous."

"Of what?" Poe snapped, irritated.

"Of who, more like." Suralinda studied Poe, who was pretending to study the technical readouts of a ship he wasn't interested in. "I don't know...that presence, those chiselled cheekbones—charm to spare, hair as good as yours, even if it's mostly gone to grey--"

"Casterfo? I'm supposed to be jealous of _him?_"__

_ __ _

_ __ _

"Aren't you?" Suralinda arched a brow, amused. Finn had been training and preparing with Casterfo’s unit for weeks. Green Team’s current mission was low-level First Order infiltration that didn’t involve the same insanity as that Star Destroyer plan.

But thanks to who it _did_ involve, it wasn’t sitting well with Poe Dameron. Not at all. Suralinda bit back a smile. "I wasn't sure which team Casterfo played for, not at first, but now--"__

_ __ _

_ __ _

"Leia says he's on our side!" 

Which wasn't at all what Suralinda meant. Honestly, Poe was thick as a brick when it came to his feelings for Finn but he didn't have to be so snarly. "It's not like the guy hasn't grated on your nerves since Riosa, never mind the Necropolis. Or did you not appreciate the rescue?"

"Who wouldn’t?” Poe shot back. Just preferably not by Casterfo. Smug, vibro-staff twirling, ever-so-kriffing-dashing Casterfo, Leia's pet—or worse. That misadventure had been months ago, but if Casterfo and Black Squadron hadn't turned up when they had? Poe didn't need reminding that Finn might have died.

"You don't like his politics."

Why was Sura needling him? "If by that you mean I don't know how he left half of Riosa behind instead of bringing it to the Resistance, you're right." Poe did understand, actually. After Mon Cala, who wouldn't? He and Finn had talked about it more than once.

But he wasn't in the mood to acknowledge that, not with Finn still out there with Ransolm _Kriffing_ Casterfo.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Vi Moradi spoke and even joked about her 'poison tooth'. That was what operatives bit down on instead of giving up their secrets to the enemy. Every member of Casterfo's core unit was fitted with one— did that mean Finn was now, too?

He hadn't given Poe a straight answer. Poe had gotten in the habit of telling Finn just about everything, he’d been under the impression that Finn felt the same way about him...

Of course, he could order Beaumont to tell him. But how would that look?

"Relax, Commander!" Suralinda patted him on the shoulder. "He'll be back before you know it."

Poe nodded, not even realizing she knew he wasn't talking about Casterfo at all.

+

Casterfo’s unit returned to claps on the back and relieved smiles. Poe’s was widest as Finn stepped down from Green Team’s commandeered First Order shuttle.

He wasn’t wearing Poe’s old jacket, but Finn’s arms around him felt better than the jacket ever had. Finn looked incredibly pleased with himself--incredibly _good_. It didn't matter that his attention had been claimed for so long by the team leader heading off with Beaumont Kin for immediate debriefing.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Poe gave Finn another exuberant hug.

_ __ _

_ __ _

+

Meeting with Kin had taken an age but all Ransolm wanted was to see Leia. Thinking she might be amused at the sight of him wearing a First Order uniform, he headed to the control room exactly as he was.

The Princess sensed his approach, so their eyes met the moment he arrived. She got the joke. His second reward was a soft expression that hadn’t been there before.

Leia was in General mode, as well as in front of an audience; she was also pale and wan and tired, presumably overworked, and likely in serious danger of coming down with a migraine.

This princess didn’t need rescuing from anyone but herself.

_ __ _

_ __ _

There were no emergencies at present; he knew as much from Beaumont Kin. Dameron was here, along with Orrimaarko and Rieekan, so her presence wasn’t essential. Naturally Leia would have ignored any hints about taking the break she obviously needed. Had the others dared suggest it in the first place?

They were her subordinates, Leia was a force to be reckoned with, so Ransolm rather doubted it. Nodding to the group around the holotable, he murmured the right things in response to the expected comments before making his way to Leia’s side.

“Might I have a word, Princess Leia?” His hands were folded behind his back, his tone suitably formal. 

She nodded, excusing herself and exiting the room with her usual dignity. Ransolm dismissed Leia’s ever-hovering protocol unit with instructions to inform high command that General Organa would not be returning on account of a thorough debriefing. 

Leia smirked, eyes dancing. “You didn’t think to phrase that any differently?” She took his arm and together they headed for her stateroom. The moment they came to a quieter corridor, Ransolm couldn’t contain himself—he finally greeted her properly. Leia kissed him back for all she was worth and had to remember to breathe.

“Trying to sweep me off my feet?” she smiled, carding her fingers through his hair. She was rather fond of messing it up.

“You shouldn’t be on them to begin with, I can see it in your face. Delegate, Leia! Is it really so difficult?” For Leia it was; he kissed her again to soften his words. Then Ransolm swept her off those stubborn feet quite literally.

“You’re being more than a little dramatic,” she laughed, rolling her eyes but looping her arms around his neck. Good thing Ransolm was in a gallant mood, because her head was about to explode like a volcano on Mustafar. Stars, she’d missed him.

"You’re as stubborn as a mynock!" Ransolm scolded, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He’d missed her, too.

"Don't talk to me about mynocks!" Leia pretended to grumble. 

Ransolm kissed her temple and kept walking.

"You realize this verges on making a scene,” observed Leia, drily. Carrying her. To her quarters. Fitting—if this were a bad holodrama. The corridor was free of organic personnel but they'd passed more than one droid.

"We would hardly be of interest to inorganics,” said Ransolm mildly, burying his nose in Leia’s hair and breathing in its familiar fragrance. 

Leia spotted BB-8 rolling around the corner. "Never underestimate a droid." 

+

"Stubborn son of a mynock!” He hadn’t set her down when she'd asked him to. Ransolm’s eyes crinkled at Leia’s griping and he kept on walking, all the way to the bedroom. Surely not the son of the one he’d just called her? Depositing her on their bed, Ran gave her a _look_—__

__

__

_ _ Which threatened to melt Leia all the way to her toes, headache or not. First Order uniform or not—preferably not. Not a stitch._ _

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

"I'm not young enough to be any son of yours. As for being younger—“ There was a wicked glint in his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll agree that has certain... advantages.” Colour rose in Leia’s face. 

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

__

__

_ __ _

_ __ _

"Brat!" Leia whispered. “There ought to be a law against you!" But Ransolm knew she was feeling poorly. He masked his concern as he chastely kissed her cheek. 

He left for a moment, only to return with her medication in one hand and a cool glass of water in the other. Handing both over with a look that brooked no argument, he sat on the edge of the bed. Then he pulled off Leia’s boots and tucked her under the covers. Plucking the pins from her hair with practiced ease, he plaited her hair into a long, loose braid that hung over the shoulder closest to him.

"Are you going to fluff the pillows for me next?" Leia tried to act miffed.

Ransolm leaned over to kiss her again, lightly on the mouth this time. “I plan on handling the situation with the Cyclorrian swarm. I’ll have Threepio brief me. And _you_ will speak to Dameron—after you’ve rested, that is.” As she’d promised she would before he’d left, but obviously hadn’t. She was supposed to be stepping back more than she had. __

__

__

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

Leia pursed her lips but gave a little nod, crossing her arms and trying to look cross—which was nearly impossible with Ransolm anymore, even though this was so hard. “Here I thought I’d end up as _your_ nursemaid!” she grumbled, thinking back to their first mission together. But she smiled as she brushed a lock of hair from Ransolm’s eyes--blue, like the skies above Aldera.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

“You thought _I_ was trouble?” he teased. His relative youth and inexperience had led Leia to expect a glorified babysitting trip all those years ago. __

_ __ _

"Since you’re intent on being so high handed, do I at least get a bedtime story?" Leia quirked a brow. He knew what she meant. 

And so, the last princess of Alderaan lay in the crook of Ransolm’s arm, resting her head against his shoulder as he stretched out beside her-- in a First Order uniform, of all things. She’d never have imagined this scenario in the craziest dream. His voice washed over Leia as he read some Alderaanian verse she kept on her personal datapad. 

Making a mental note to have him record himself reading a selection or two before the next time he left, she closed her eyes and drifted off to the sound of his voice. The words gave wings to memories of people she’d loved and the world she called home, a kaleidoscope of swirling images and emotions. Thinking of her losses had often brought her pain, but there was so much joy in it, too—in remembering what she’d been blessed with.

She dreamt of Bail, and Breha, and of snowy mountain peaks; a sprawling palace--and the promise of peace a silvery thread through it all. A laughing Han, a smiling Luke, a dark-haired boy who claimed her heart the moment she’d felt him spark into existence...

Ransolm kissed her forehead when she finally drifted off. Diamonds belonged in velvet when they didn’t need to shine.

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +
> 
> Do read kyrilu’s ‘these firebirds sing at night’ for the imaginary Casterfo/Black Squadron rescue of Finn and Poe I’ve alluded to. 
> 
> For that matter, go ahead and read ANYTHING by (the amazing) kyrilu. :D


	21. The Gift

+

"The General needs to see this." Poe enlarged the readout with the tip of his index finger and shook his head at the holo hovering in midair.

"General Organa is unavailable at present. You _have_ been designated her second-in-command,” Threepio reminded him, shuffling over to join the small group studying the data in question.__

_ _ “Is she all right?” Finn furrowed his brow._ _

_ _ “Why, yes!” replied Threepio brightly. “The General is in excellent spirits.” _ _

_ _"Of course she is...I expect she's debriefing her emissary,” murmured Charth. The Twi’lek seemed amused by something but disinclined to share it. He promptly found urgent business elsewhere._ _

_ __ _

__

“Debriefing?" Finn repeated, because that wasn’t logical. Charth was part of Casterfo’s unit and knew better than anyone that he’d returned two days ago. The man hadn’t been anywhere since.

“Ambassador Brethen is mistaken!” Threepio insisted. “Ransolm Casterfo is taking breakfast with General Organa now that he has finished his customary morning exercise. I expect they’re reviewing the briefing _I_ have just given _them.___

_ __ _

__

_ __ _

__

_ __ _

__

_ _Snap Wexley made a snorting noise he really wished he hadn’t. "Boxers or briefs?" Had he said that out loud? He must have, because Suralinda rolled her eyes and left._ _

_ _Which left Threepio with the suddenly awkward trio of Poe, Finn, and Snap. The Resistance’s protocol specialist prattled on about discussion of anyone’s basics being completely uncalled for, that it had no bearing on the task at hand—__

__ So it came as a total surprise when the droid managed to take matters to a whole new level of awkwardness: “From a historical perspective, it is not unheard of for advanced practitioners of classic Hosnian martial arts to forego garments of any kind when practicing their forms—provided, of course, that circumstances are appropriate.”_ _

_ _ “Appropriate?” Poe choked. He blinked. Twice. As a matter of fact, he didn’t trust himself to speak. Had Finn’s eyes ever been so wide or so round?_ _

__“You briefed Casterfo and the General...together, Threepio?" Snap finally managed. “And now they’re eating breakfast? Together?” He prayed that other mental image would banish itself from his brain forever. _ _

_ _Threepio placed a metallic golden hand over where a heart would have been. “Why ever would they do so separately?” Why, indeed.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Finn’s eyebrows rose. ”Are you _gossiping_, Threepio?”__

_ __ _

__

“Certainly not! My programming does not permit gossip.” 

Poe sent the ever-helpful protocol droid on an errand before he could add to what already felt like too much information. 

_ _ “Please tell me this conversation never happened,” said Finn, slowly. Connix and Beaumont hadn’t so much as glanced up from their workstation a scant few metres away. _ _

_ __ _

__

_ _"What conversation? We’re better than this,” Snap murmured. But was he really alone in noticing how the General’s hair kept changing? It seemed to him that it usually started off all twisted up—but when Casterfo was around, she styled it differently. Sometimes, it even changed partway through the day. Wasn’t there something about Alderaanians and hair?_ _

“This really isn’t anybody's business...” Finn’s voice trailed off. 

__

_ _“Exactly,” said Poe, tone firm. __ __

_ __ _

__

__

_ _ They turned their attention back to the pressing matter at hand. Still, no matter how carefully his General and her emissary conducted themselves—how correctly they stood, or spoke, or behaved—there was _something_ there._ _ __

__

_ _ Leia and her not-so-old friend meant to keep it to themselves, but there was a light in their eyes when they looked at each other. Poe was left wondering if the same held true for the way he looked at Finn._ _

_ __ _

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_ __ _

_ _

_ _

_ _+_ _

_ _

_ _”Incoming transmission from Ransolm Casterfo,” Connix announced, more than a little surprised. Casterfo had set off for former Imperial space weeks ago and hadn’t been heard from since. “What’s more, he’s sent us a set of coordinates.”_ _

_ _“Thank you, Connix,” replied Leia smoothly, and her tired feet had her to the monitor before Connix had so much as patched him through. Ransolm had to feel sure of himself if he was risking this type of communication. _ _

_ _Poe saw how Leia brightened at the sight of Ransolm’s face—the guy looked awfully happy about something. The Resistance had suffered devastating losses recently, so a little good news might go a long way. _ _

_ _

_ _”General Organa,” Casterfo inclined his head. He preferred not to communicate by holo when given the choice; holos had been popularized during the Empire. That was fine with Leia, because regular transmission allowed her to see the twinkle in his eyes. ”We have a new ally, though you first met decades ago. As a token of goodwill he wishes to present you with a gift.” __

_ _ Ransolm’s tone was formal but his expression told Leia how much he expected her to like this unnamed present. “I advise you to have Rose Tico assemble a team and accompany you to the coordinates I’ve provided.” _ _

__ Leia quirked a brow. Ransolm was definitely enjoying this, and the only time she hadn’t cared for a surprise he’d arranged had involved a music box and the open senate. “It would only be fitting to thank them in person,” said Leia. Calm and composed, her face betrayed nothing of her feelings to the group gathering around the monitor._ _

_ _“Agreed. And Leia--" For once, Ransolm forgot himself. He leaned forward, eyes shining. "Be sure to dress for dinner."_ _

_ _

_ _+_ _

_ _

_ _Poe waited for the room to clear. She couldn’t seriously be considering this! They’d lost Yendor, Rieekan, Orrimaarko, so many people—the _Holdo_ had been blown to bits. The Resistance would be, too, if anything happened to Leia. _ _

__

_ _"With all due respect—there's something Casterfo might not have anticipated. This might be a trap." _ _

_ _Leia smirked as she patted Poe's cheek."Shut yours, Dameron." The expression that prompted kept her smiling. "You're coming with me, so go put that suit on--the one Maz likes." Not like a certain ex-stormtrooper minded it, either._ _

_ _"Yes, Ma'am." _ _

_ _"And, Poe? Make sure Finn does the same." That had the most incorrigible flirt in the Resistance wondering what to do with his face. Did he really think she was born yesterday? _ _

_ _"Don't just stand there! At this rate, I'll be fluffed and puffed before you even find him. Whoever this is we're meeting? It’s bound to be a better surprise than dinner with Vader over Bespin."_ _

_ _Apparently Dameron thought she was kidding.__

_ __ _  


_ _

_ _+_ _

_ _

There was no mistaking those red markings, that familiar shape—even if she had no idea who owned the luxurious yacht docked at its nearest ring.

”Look, Artoo! It’s the _Tantive IV!_ How remarkable. Not that I can say I’m especially pleased to see it again, not after what became of us the last time we were aboard. To think that Senate records indicated it was scheduled for—“__

_ _ Leia tuned out the rest of Threepio’s exclamations along with the chirps and whistles they prompted from Artoo, staring at the ship as the _Falcon_ made its approach. Some of the Corellian corvette’s escape pods were still missing from that long-ago encounter with the Empire, when she’d hidden plans for the Death Star inside the little astromech and hoped for a miracle. That desperate hour, her capture by Vader, her plea to Ben Kenobi—it somehow felt like a lifetime ago. _ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ _Leia had one gown left by now. Fortunately, cleaning droids had succeeded in removing the salt stains from its hem. Those stains were from Crait and their stand against the First Order. They’d needed a miracle then too, and they’d gotten more than one. _ _

This felt like a a bit of a miracle. It was only a ship, of course, battered and old and nothing special to look at any longer—rather like she felt, most of the time. But she’d always assumed that _Tantive IV_ had been destroyed, so the recovery of her long-lost consular vessel felt to Leia like a spark of hope. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ _The man holding out his arm for her to take as she reached the bottom of the _Falcon’s_ ramp gave her hope for the future, too. Ransolm’s smile was infectious, as bright as Tatooine’s twin suns._ _

__

__

_ _Their mysterious host turned out to be a former Imperial senator Leia had met once or twice back when she was a junior legislator; he found the First Order abhorrent, and he’d also found Leia’s old ship, mouldering away in a forgotten hangar in the Yarma system._ _

_ _Between he and many of his associates were an ever-growing number of winks and nods and quiet understandings, cautious whispers...as well as potential betrayal behind every other smile. Leia appreciated the risks this old Imperial was taking._ _

_ _Their meal aboard his luxurious yacht was superlative, the wine excellent. She and Ransolm stayed for cognac after Chewie and Poe departed with Finn, whose history and convictions fascinated their cautiously supportive— and quite elderly—new ally. No further help could be expected from this quarter, but the fact he’d made a gesture like finding and returning her ship spoke volumes in itself._ _

_ __ _

_ _

_ __ _

_ _

_ _

_ _+_ _

_ _

_ _

_ _It was late by the time she and Ransolm left the lap of luxury and stepped aboard the _Tantive IV_. "I still can't believe it!" Leia flopped down on the seat, a cloud of dust puffing up as she joined Ransolm on a very familiar sectional. It had aged rather well after all these years.__

___ Ransolm wasted no time voicing his admiration for the aesthetic of Leia’s stateroom suite; apparently he preferred its classic Alderaanian decor to that of her stateroom aboard the Corellian corvette the Resistance had just lost. There was no escaping he was deeply affected by news of who they’d lost along with it._ _ _

__

__

_ _But they had to go on, one step at time, and focus on what came next. As for this ship, the Resistance had plenty of cleaning droids--too little of far too many things, but plenty of those. They'd have this vessel shipshape in short order. Dust and mildew were removable, even if pain and loss were nowhere close._ _

_ _Leia would never have pictured arriving at Ajan Kloss aboard this ship, but that was what she meant to do next. It had only been a matter of hours, but Rose Tico had everything running as smoothly as a Fathier._ _

_ _“You realize I’m designating this our new flagship? It suits me—I’m a bit of a relic too,” she laughed._ _

_ _“It’s impossible to improve with age? Is that what you're suggesting?" Ransolm teased. He certainly hoped he had. _ _

_ _Leia rolled her eyes.“I'm hardly a bottle of wine.”_ _

_ _“If you were, the vintage is unparalleled.” He reached for her hand, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist. He’d waited to do that for hours._ _

_ _“Speaking of which, I wonder—“ Leia got to her feet, heading over to a decorative panel on the far wall. A tap here, a thumbprint there, and a hidden wall safe swung open. The art that used to cover it had probably been removed when the ship had first been captured._ _

_ _There wasn't much inside the safe, just her pathfinding dagger and a bottle of wine. The dagger she tossed to Ransolm, who snagged it with his dominant left hand. The bottle she brandished in the air with a flourish, grinning triumphantly._ _

_ _"Toniray!" Ransolm exclaimed. A rarity indeed._ _

_ _"Not the plonk that purple-haired barkeep subjected us to back on Batuu, either, though technically I guess it fit the bill. This--" Leia handed the bottle to him, knowing his gentlemanly sensibilities would be mildly offended if she opened it herself. “This, Ransolm Casterfo, is the good stuff.” As in, on-her-parents'-table Good Stuff, the kind you kept on hand if you really wanted to impress somebody—which was the only reason it had been in the safe to begin with._ _

_ _Ransolm set the dagger down and quickly opened the priceless wine. Leia took a swig straight from the bottle. “Excellent!” she pronounced it, laughing out loud at the horrified expression on Ransolm’s face; in some ways, he hadn’t changed a bit. __

__ She’d noticed him casing the room with his eyes—which meant that Leia promptly handed him the bottle. “We don’t need glasses. Nobody’s around, and this is all ours!”_ _

_ _“Ah, but not until you see what else I’ve brought you.” He meant to give it to Beaumont Kin, their head of intelligence, but he passed the two-toned metal disc to Leia for now. “It’s a First Order officer’s transit data-medallion, with an encrypted subspace code that allows interdiction passage for the bearer.”__

__ Leia gave a low whistle, shaking her head and handing it right back to Ransolm. It felt to him like the perfect time for a kiss, so he leaned over and to taste the Toniray on Leia’s lips._ _

_ _That would have to do—for now. Leia took another swig of Toniray, Ransolm playing with a loose tendril of her hair and teasing her mercilessly about demonstrating what he considered an appalling lack of reverence for what might very well be the last bottle of it in the galaxy. Leia teased him about christening the other room, which prompted the colour to rise in his cheeks. Ransolm could still blush like that, even now? __

_ _ Leia tucked her feet beneath her and Ransolm put his own up on the table. As they traded the bottle, and stories, and updates, he wanted to get a better look at her dagger. A shiver ran down his spine the moment he unsheathed it— which made no sense. The weapon was of the finest craftsmanship and quite beautiful. He ran his long, elegant fingers along its wickedly sharp edge, cursing himself for his carelessness when the blade nicked his thumb._ _

_ _He set the blade down to apply pressure to the cut—surprisingly deep— only for Leia to shock him by grabbing the dagger and flicking it across her own palm so that beads of crimson pooled and matched his own._ _

_ _ In a heartbeat she pressed his cut against hers._ _

_ _ The gesture moved him, strange as it was. “Is this some sort of Alderaanian ritual I’ve never heard of?” _ _

__ “No. But I’ve read about this—“ _ _

_ _As had he. Blood oaths, blood bonds. Neither swore anything aloud. Ransolm had sworn an oath of his own to Leia long ago, certain she knew it. Their cuts were bleeding more by now, enough for Ransolm to wad the fabric of his cloak with his free hand and reach for Leia’s wound— enough was enough. But Leia shook her head, drawing his hand close and brushing a kiss to his knuckles._ _

_ _“I appreciate the gesture, but surely this requires more than a kiss to—“ Ransolm gave a sharp intake of breath. __

_ _ It suddenly felt as there were no boundaries between them, that everything was _singing_. Leia’s eyes were closed, she was smiling, she was concentrating—he swore she surrounded him, that she’d woven herself through his very soul—_ _

__

__

_ _And then it was over. Eyes the colour of rich dark chocolate smiled into his own, and their wounds had vanished. “Force healing,” said Leia softly. _ _

_ __ _

_ _“Force witchery,” Ransolm breathed, more in awe of her than ever. He made that a definite compliment._ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ _

_ _+_ _


	22. Pathfinding

+

Staves clashed as they whirled, dancing away from each other before engaging again. Leia was quick, Ransolm quicker, but relative youth was no match for Force-aided movements.

Ransolm landed flat on his back in the middle of the clearing. It was glorious to be planetside again, to feel the sun kiss his face after so many months of living in space, never mind the years of imprisonment preceeding it. This unspoiled moon was a far cry from the garbage planets they’d resorted to until now.

When he opened his eyes, Leia's face was inches from his own. She'd pinned him to the ground and was grinning from ear to ear.

"That was hardly sporting of you!" He couldn't hide a smile of his own. Force-shoving him onto his back was something he hadn’t minded her doing—especially not when it had the victor so agreeably positioned.

But Leia sat up instead, calling a water flask to her hand. After unscrewing it to take a few sips, she promptly dumped the rest over Ransolm's head. Laughing, he shook his hair so that water droplets splattered them both. The jungles of Ajan Kloss were steamy.

Truth be told, he was surprised that Leia had insisted on heading into the rainforest with him rather than overseeing the establishment of the new base. Perhaps she saw the wisdom of giving Dameron and the others the opportunity to function without her presence.

He had to wonder where she found the strength to spar as they had just now. There were times Leia seemed alarmingly fragile, yet others when she struck him as much closer to invincible. He caught her studying him.

"Just admiring the view," she smirked, passing him the flask. They was more water left than he'd expected and he drank deeply, Leia making no secret of the admiration she referred to.

"I take it you see something you like?" Ransolm cocked an eyebrow, his expression mock-serious. His dimples never failed to give him away.

"Brat!" she scolded fondly, taking to her feet. "But there's another reason I brought you out here. There’s something I hope you'll do."

+

Pathfinding. 

She'd given him explicit instructions. Armed with a coil of rope, a sharp machete and the princess’ dagger, Ransolm proceeded to follow them.

The swarms of insects verged on being maddening this far into the jungle. Whatever repellant he'd doused himself with proved woefully inadequate—Ransolm had returned to base with welts all over him the very first day.

People were too busy with their own orders to inquire as to how he was spending his time now that _Tantive IV _ was tucked into an enormous natural cliffside hangar and the base hummed with activity. Besides, they were accustomed to seeing Ransolm go about his own business most of the time.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Traipsing through undergrowth was the last thing he'd expected to be doing upon arrival on this jungle moon, but locating a path that hadn't been used in decades had suddenly become Leia's top priority. 

Rey seemed to sense what he was about, but the girl spent her days tinkering in the little haven she'd made for herself upon arrival. Apparently she had set about repairing what Leia referred to as her brother's lightsaber, not that Ransolm had any idea how that might be accomplished. 

As he hacked away at underbrush and placed another trail marker, he reflected on how astonishing it was that Leia's recollections were so clear, and how easy it was to find the landmarks she described. As he grew more accustomed to the local vegetation, he began to recognize signs of the original path without referring quite so often to Leia's advice.

The princess was too weak to walk kilometers to oversee the task she'd set out for him. Besides, it seemed like she didn't want to.

Not that he blamed her. Ransolm swatted away whatever fiendish insect had just taken a chunk out of his neck. How could anything so tiny be such an incredible pain in the ass? He smiled, thinking fondly of the first example that came to mind.

Turning his attention back to the task at hand, he furrowed his brow and tried to determine the best way to shift a fallen log from the section of path he was working on. He was quite surprised to hear the hum of a speeder bike approaching; he’d worked alone for days.

To his delight, Leia pulled up. She cut the engine, tossing him a can of bug spray as she hopped off the speeder. She snuck in a kiss before reclaiming the can and ordering Ransolm to shut his eyes so she could douse him from head to toe with repellent. The bugs didn't seem to bother Leia--perhaps they knew better than to trouble her.

"I asked you to find the path, not clear it all by yourself!" Leia teased. "Chewie's on his way." She swatted a bug that ignored the repellant and feasted on Ransolm's arm. Somebody was going to need to make a supply run for more effective varieties. No predators lurked in Ajan Kloss’ jungles, but the insect population did its best to make up for that.

The princess led him to a fallen log and sat down, turning to face him when he did the same. What had Leia looking so serious? Not that there were many moments that felt truly light-hearted, not in the middle of a war. Leia’s hand found the opening of his shirt, unbuttoned on account of the sweltering conditions. Her touch was cool against the heat of his skin, very nearly cold.

"You’ve done well here, Ransolm. You’ve found the path—as you’ll find others. When the time comes.” Leia glanced away. Then she looked into his eyes—really looked. He hoped she approved of what she found there. “Do remember what I told you once, back on Hosnian Prime--about finding your way?" she asked softly. 

He did. And he didn't like where this was leading. Ransolm's heart hammered beneath Leia's palm—they weren’t talking about clearing underbrush on Ajan Kloss. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Leia dropped her hand but held his gaze. "You have the strength to do it, Ransolm. To find the path. To find a way forward."

The moment was lost when something heavy came crashing though the undergrowth. Twigs snapped and foliage swayed as Chewbacca appeared, a coil of rope slung over his shoulder and a wide Wookiee grin on his face. He had leaves of some sort in his hand, and he tilted his head as he chuffed a greeting to the two of them.

Leia knew perfectly well that Chewie could move silently when he chose to and appreciated how politely he'd advertised his arrival. Chewie gestured for Ransolm to come close enough for him to slather the back of his neck with whatever foul-smelling glop he'd just squeezed out of the thick leaves he'd shown up with.

Leia left the man and the Wookiee to the task she'd set for them, heading back to her young apprentice.

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +
> 
> “For a long time, you’ll have to stand alone.” Leia’s gaze seemed to look through him, and Ransolm could not guess what she saw. But then she added, “I believe you’re strong enough to do it.”
> 
> Nothing she could have said would have humbled him more, or encouraged him more. Ransolm nodded.
> 
> “I will always do my duty.”
> 
> “Yes, I think you will.”
> 
> Ransolm knew the torch had been passed. He hoped he would be worthy of it.
> 
> ~p. 375, ‘Bloodline’, Claudia Gray


	23. Chapter 23

+

It was wondrous, the carousel of rocks and pebbles swirling around the slender girl. Rey, cross-legged, hovered several metres above the forest floor. Even with her eyes closed, she seemed aware of infinitely more than he was. 

Ransolm glanced at Leia, who sat beside him on a moss-covered log at the edge of the clearing. The princess turned her attention from Rey to smile at him, a soft smile he treasured.

He closed his eyes when Leia did and a welcome sense of peace washed over him. Why did it feel as though the jungle hummed along with whatever young Rey was reaching for? Or had already reached, judging from the serenity of her features. 

Was that surge of calm suffusing him her Master’s doing? Or was it Rey's, as she focussed on the training exercise Leia set for her? Either way, it struck Ransolm a bit like the lull of surf against an ocean world’s shoreline; there was a rhythm to it, a music.

It was worlds removed from the ugliness shrouded in the mists of Ransolm’s memories, when another Force-wielder had strangled breath from hapless Riosan prisoners. Vader had forced the child he’d been to watch as he’d tortured his papa.

Maz would call it poetic that the man he’d become was witnessing something profoundly beautiful with his fingers entwined in Leia's. How ironic, that she was the flesh and blood of the one who'd haunted him for decades. 

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

He remained a silent observer as Rey’s lesson continued, letting his thoughts turn to a discussion he’d had earlier with Major Kalonia. The doctor had cornered him in that clever way she had, which felt accidental but almost certainly wasn't. 

Harter Kalonia thought he should cut himself some slack in the guilt department. She believed his initial reaction to Leia's paternity could never have gone much differently.

Ransolm had to object--Vader’s ravaging of Riosa had taken place decades earlier, time enough for him to have shrugged off the past. There was no escaping he’d been shamefully easy for Carise Sindian to manipulate, and wrong to cling to his principles so blindly. At the time, he’d convinced himself he’d acted in the interests of the truth. The most important truth was that he should have listened to what his heart knew of Leia.

Strength of character ought to have been enough to overcome his intense, visceral reaction to discovering her parentage. Judgement, strength—he’d lacked both. He should have gone to Leia first instead of revealing her secrets in the open senate. The princess might have forgiven him, but Ransolm would never forgive himself.

Harter was convinced that responding rationally to anything Vader-related would have been impossible at that point in his life. The human brain was wired for fight-or-flight reactions, and his childhood trauma at Darth Vader’s hands meant his reaction had been well and truly beyond his control. She’d reminded him of her considerable experience in such matters, but Ransolm disliked considering himself traumatized; he preferred to focus on what he could change, as opposed to what he couldn't. Harter had only smiled.

"Ran?”

Leia’s voice drew him back to the present. Ah, she was asking him to spar with Rey? Of course he would— as soon the girl returned from running the training course again. After all, Rey was preparing to face Kylo Ren. If there was the chance that some obscure Hosnian technique could give her an edge, then it was his duty.

He offered Leia his arm when she stood up. Allowing her to wobble was unthinkable, and it was high time to return to base. “Come along, Huttslayer," he teased, choosing to remind the princess of her strength. Her body had begun failing her, but Ransolm would never show her pity.

He lifted her onto the back of the speeder bike before she could protest, taking the controls and setting off smoothly enough to keep the pickiest instructor’s caf from spilling. As they followed the path winding through the jungle, he wondered if Leia recalled the first time she'd wrapped her arms around him.

It had been on Bastatha, when he'd charged into the middle of a sting operation and bungled it for her. He'd flown them out of danger. She'd grabbed the blaster from his belt and coolly picked off their pursuers, and part of him had been hers ever since. 

However, that insanely dangerous, high-speed chase was infinitely preferable to this sedate cruise through the jungle. Leia stumbled as he helped her off the speeder once they reached the main hangar. Ran pretended not to notice.

+

Finn, stripped to the waist and skin gleaming with exertion, squared off with Rey in an open space near the landing field. To the delight of the crowd gathered at the base of the cliff, the two sparred with slender wooden staves. Everyone knew that Rey was training to be a Jedi; the surprise was that Finn was holding his own.

Sunlight streamed through the forest canopy, bathing the cliff and the grinning combatants in the gold of late-afternoon sunshine. Too bad Poe didn't know what to do with himself.

Jealousy stabbed at him, hot and sharp. 

Poe felt closer to Finn than he'd ever been to anyone--there was no question of that. There sure was in relation to whatever Finn and Rey had going on. 

When it came to the two of them, he felt like...an outsider. Not always; just a little too often. But he schooled his face into revealing nothing of those feelings, because Suralinda and Casterfo had joined him. As usual, they were discussing political business with a relish he definitely couldn’t share. Suralinda smirked at Poe before heckling Finn good-naturedly. 

Casterfo called out his approval when Finn pulled off a move that caught Rey by surprise. Dusting herself off, Rey tilted her head and studied Finn as though she'd just discovered something she’d never seen before. The sparring continued, livelier than ever, with Rey and Finn plainly having the time of their lives.

Sparring. Fittingly enough, that was also a euphemism for--

What was Casterfo asking him? Casterfo—he’d started the martial arts craze everybody and their uncle seemed to have taken up since Corellia, even if Tar Har was the one lighting the fire under people to give it a shot in their spare time. Charth, Finn and Tar all gave lessons in their free time, even if Casterfo didn’t any more because he was away more often than not. 

Poe didn't have time for it, handy as those skills would be in close quarters. Was anybody in the Resistance going to get close enough to the enemy to use them? They needed to be _out there_, taking the fight to the First Order—not fooling around with sticks in the jungle in what little spare time they had.__

_ __ _

__

Hells, he needed Finn out there _with_ him! Which he usually was. But Rey—how could Leia let her roam around the jungle lifting rocks, or poring over texts that looked about a thousand years old?__

_ __ _

__

If the situation got any worse the Resistance wasn’t going to see next week, not with the rate of attrition what it was. Rey—she was their best fighter, their best pilot.

“Think you could use your influence with the General to get Rey where we need her, Casterfo? She’d listen to Leia and stop wasting her time like this.” Poe figured Ransolm would agree. He'd proven himself the furthest thing from an idiot. 

But the look in Casterfo’s eyes could have frozen Hoth twice over. Had Poe imagined it? He must have, because that fleeting expression was gone when Ransolm answered him.

“Leia means to prepare each of us for the roles we’ll need to play in the future,” said the tall man quietly. He nodded to Poe and Suralinda before turning on his heel to leave. 

“He didn’t have to be snippy,” said Poe under his breath, belatedly realizing he was still keyed up about feeling like a third wheel when it came to Finn and Rey.

“He sounded sad, not snippy,” murmured Sura. She’d been invited to more than one breakfast meeting with the General and Casterfo lately, and their usual topics of discussion had given Suralinda plenty of food for thought. “If he were ticked, you’d know it. Rumour has it he has quite the temper—not that we’ve ever seen it.” 

If Threepio’s ‘non-gossip’ was accurate—and surely it was—then the charming, charismatic Ransolm Casterfo had a temper to match the general’s. The protocol droid had cheerfully recounted the details of more than one screaming match between the former senate rivals, not that Sura could remember how he’d justified it.

It was hard to picture Leia and Ransolm blowing up at each other, or even subjecting each other to the deep freeze Threepio described. From what Sura had seen, they definitely had different perspectives on some matters. That said, the trust and respect between them was plain. It seemed to Sura they’d learned the secret to debating without being combative, which let them find an all-important middle ground. There was something to be said for listening.

+

No birds sang.

Their sparring was intense, focussed. Both of them were driven.

This was their third session, and never had Ransolm encountered such an opponent, someone faster and more agile than he was by far. He’d shown Rey new forms, he’d done all he could, and his muscles screamed with a satisfying exertion. It was a relief, considering the tumult of his thoughts. 

Leia was weakening daily, and Ransolm had no idea how she carried on. He ought to have left Ajan Kloss weeks ago, but couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her—not now. 

This girl—Leia said she was their last hope—

Rey promptly sent him flying. Ransolm landed hard. Unlike Rey, he couldn’t see a move coming before she actually made it. His anticipation of opponents had always been almost preternatural, but Jedi were in another category.

There were no witnesses; they were alone, deep in the jungle and well away from prying eyes. Still, it took some getting used to, being soundly beaten on a regular basis. His ego ought to be as bruised as the rest of him. Thank the Force for Force-healing, because Rey would sort him out before they headed back to base.

He hopped to his feet and called for a break, heading over to the mossy log to grab their water flasks. He handed Rey hers, which she took—

And in that moment of contact between them, everything felt like it crashed down around Ransolm Casterfo.

+


	24. Chapter 24

+

Leia gripped the edge of the console to steady herself.

A wall of emotion slammed into her, and that wall was heading straight for her in the form of Ransolm. Ignoring the others in the makeshift command centre, he strode toward Leia, quarterstaff in hand and mouth set in a grim line.

“Excuse us,” murmured Leia. Ransolm took her arm just short of roughly. “Carry on without me for now.” That was her advice to the shocked and staring Rose, Kaydel and Beaumont. They ought to know better than to look so worried; Ran was the last person who meant her any harm.

That said, her footsteps were too slow to suit his long strides.

“Let’s not do this in public.” She kept her voice low, leaning heavily on his arm to encourage him to slow down.

“Agreed,” snapped Ransolm. His pace slowed to match hers as they left the command centre tucked beneath _Tantive IV_ and entered the ship itself. When they reached her stateroom, he stepped aside so that Leia entered first. Then he keyed the door shut behind them.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

“What. The. _Hell!”_ he exploded, flinging his arms out in disbelief. That wasn’t enough of a release. He whipped his staff so that it thrashed the wall, only to send a piece of artwork crashing to the floor. The antique glass inside the frame shattered. He instantly regretted it.__

_ _Leia had seen him angry. But erupt? That, she'd only witnessed once. From the way he was dressed and the staff in his hands, he must have been sparring with Rey. For once in her life, Leia had no idea what to make of his behaviour._ _

_ _He didn’t leave her guessing long._ _

_ _“I saw him, Leia! Your son. He was here—I saw him with my own eyes!” He tossed his staff aside as if he didn’t trust himself with it._ _

_ _Leia sank onto the faded couch, pale and stunned._ _

_ _Running a hand through his hair, Ran’s expression was of mingled horror and disbelief. “One minute he was here, the next he wasn’t. Would you care to explain?” Had she done it again? Held something incredibly crucial back from him—even now? _“Were you ever going to tell me?”___

_ __ _

_ __ _

__

__

_ _Her face gave him the answer he’d hoped for. Leia hadn’t known. Not about whatever this was—or wasn’t. _ _

_ _“Has she betrayed you, then? Your protégée? The one you’ve come to care for like a daughter? Has Rey betrayed you every bit as thoroughly as _I_ ever did? Because you sure as hell don’t deserve it!”_ _ __

__

__

_ _Fight or flight—Ransolm was all fight. His hair was wild, his eyes wilder. There was an angry gash on his arm; not deep, but the kind that might fester in this climate. Bacta was in short supply. Leia rose, reaching for him—_ _

_ _“Don’t!" He wrenched his arm away. “Don’t even think about touching me. For once in your life, would you put yourself _first_?” She’d noticed his wound. Damned if he was going to let her waste what little strength she had left on Force-healing something so completely insignificant._ _ __

__

__

_ _The look on her face—it broke his heart._ _

_ _His tone softened. “I’ll be fine. It’s barely a scratch.” Murmuring apologies, he drew her into the circle of his arms. She leaned into him, physically frail, newly vulnerable. Ransolm rested his cheek against the top of her head and sighed. __

__ How he hated this. If only Leia’s body were as strong as her will. What he wouldn’t give to change this story for her—to shield her from the inevitable. _ _

_ _When he was calm, Leia stepped back to study his face. “Tell me.”_ _

_ _Ransolm closed his eyes for a long moment, struggling to put words to the sheer impossibility of what he’d just witnessed. Leia waited. _ _

_ _“To put it simply, I saw him. For the briefest of moments I saw your son—your Ben. He was there, in the middle of the clearing where Rey and I spar. He appeared out of thin air, and disappeared just as quickly. I’ve no rational explanation for it.”_ _

_ _Leia had gone perfectly still._ _

_ _Ransolm told her of his session with Rey, of falling backward and grazing himself against a tree root. He’d called for a break and handed her a flask of water, only for a tall, glowering man to appear as his fingers had brushed hers. Dressed in black like Vader himself, his eyes had burned into Rey’s. __

__ Ran had known him at once. Those eyes—he'd never forget them. _ _

_ _“Now that I consider it, the girl looked stunned—shocked. She was definitely angry.” Ransolm shook his head. “She scarcely reacted when I told her I was finished for the day, and was probably relieved that I left so abruptly. Everything happened so fast... I doubt she’s aware I saw anything at all.”_ _

_ _“Do you know what struck me most?” He glanced away as though ashamed. Then he met her eyes again. “The look on his face--it could have been yours, Leia. That day you stormed into my office.”__

__ The day he’d betrayed his one true friend. Whatever existed between Rey and Ren—_Ben,_ he reminded himself—had left Leia’s son feeling equally betrayed. _ _

_ _Leia took a shaky breath, reaching for Ransolm’s hand. He took it and joined her on the couch._ _

_ _ _The princess blinked before she spoke. “I’ve always sensed..._something_ there, for lack of a better term. Something between the two of them. A connection. She’s told me some of it. She’s not ready to share the rest. Luke speaks of it, too. He saw evidence of it once. It threw him.”___

___ Ransolm knew that Leia communicated with her twin from time to time, an idea that still blew his mind when he tried it on for size.___

_ _ _ _“But this?” Leia continued, shaking her head slowly. “This...I have no idea what you just saw.” Her steady gaze met his. “Do you doubt me?” _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“I did once, to my eternal regret. No.” He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind Leia’s ear. “For a moment I did, but it didn't last. I could never doubt you." He paused. "But I hardly need to remind you that fear and anger blinded me years ago, with disastrous consequences. ____

___ And so I ask you now: in allowing Rey to deal with this as she sees fit—because it feels like that’s your intention—is it possible that your judgment is being clouded? Not by anger, not by fear...but by love?” Love for her only child, and love for the girl she had high hopes for. Was there a danger in the connection between them that Leia could not see?_ _ _

_ _ _ _Leia considered his words. She took her time before answering, but finally shook her head. That was enough for Ran. ____

___ “What are you planning to do?” she asked softly._ _ _

_ _ _ _What did she expect? That he’d barge into the hangar bay and announce that Kylo Ren had been in their midst? That they ought to evacuate? That the Supreme Leader of the First Order shared an incredibly unsettling connection with Rey of Jakku? ____

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ _ _“What am I planning to do?” He quirked a brow. “I’m going to make tea.” He headed to the kitchenette a few paces away, flipping the necessary switches to set the water boiling. He took their usual mugs from the cupboard and set them on the counter, along with the loose-leaf Gatalentan tea that Leia liked best. ____

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ _ _The princess’ hand reached into the pocket of her combat vest. Not the pocket Maz was fond of tucking sweets into, but the other one—where she kept her late husband’s medal of bravery. She was seldom without it and must have caressed it a thousand times by now._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Palms on the counter, Ran sighed. This called for something stronger. He rummaged through a cabinet in search of the Corellian brandy Nien Nunb had shown up with the other day. It was probably the same shade as Captain Solo’s eyes. ____

___ A hint of a smile flitted over Leia’s features as he poured two fingers of it into a pair of crystal snifters. Alderaanian, of course, like most things in her suite._ _ _

_ _ _ _“Sometimes, I swear you’re reading my mind,” Leia smiled._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _They clinked glasses and a lump rose in his throat._ _ _ _

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _+_ _ _ _


	25. A Toast

+

Poe tapped the doorchime of Leia's stateroom suite, not sure what to expect. Kaydel, Rose and Beaumont had different opinions about what they’d witnessed. This probably wasn't any of his business, but here he was anyway.

"Come in," called Leia from beyond the door. It hissed open with a touch, and Poe entered to find a cosy scene.

The General was curled up next to Casterfo on the sofa. But what in the name of Naboo was he doing to her hair? Loose, it reached to her waist, and the sight of it in that state made Poe feel like he was intruding. But Leia had a drink in her hand and waved him over.

_ __ _

_ __ _

"You know how to choose your moments. Won't you join us?" She gestured to a bottle on the table. Poe noted hairpins scattered beside it. Casterfo was _braiding_ her hair? __

_ __ _

_ __ _

"Uh, thanks. But I'm on duty." Poe ran an awkward hand through his own. Leia ignored his hesitation and punched something into her wrist comm. 

"Not any more, you're not," she smirked.

Poe hadn't fully recovered from the shock of Leia and Casterfo so...close. Fortunately, a mouse droid collecting shards of glass near his feet started bumping into his boot persistently enough to make itself a topic of conversation. “Having trouble with your droid?”

"Not particularly," said Casterfo, finishing Leia’s long braid in short order. He got to his feet and reset the malfunctioning unit. "Only with my temper." Ransolm shot Leia a _look._

_ __ _

_ __ _

The General's lips curved into an answering smile. "For once you can’t say I provoked you." 

She made that sound _flirtatious_. Casterfo’s dimples made an appearance, and Poe was taken aback how the two were suddenly being so open about something they'd kept private—private enough to be a question mark for him, anyway. "Provoking man." The fondness in her tone made it a compliment.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Poe fought the urge to bolt. But Corellian whiskey was in short supply, and that's what Casterfo was pouring him when the door chimed again.

"It's open, Chewie!" Leia stayed put on the couch as the Wookiee ducked his head and entered, chuffing a greeting. He had pair of roasted avians in one hand, and a satchel of fruit collected from the jungle in the other. Chewie headed for the counter where Ransolm was taking platters out of a cabinet. 

Poe had never seen the Wookiee wash his hands. They were strangely slender all wet, and just as odd to see as Leia’s hair in all its glory.

Chewie sliced up his catch and arranged it on platters with surprising finesse. The scene struck Poe as a regular occurrence, and the aroma of freshly roasted fowl had his stomach rumbling. This sure beat rations. Figuring he’d help speed things along, Poe set his whiskey down and reached for a clean dagger to prepare the fruit Casterfo washed.

"Mind that blade, it's wickedly sharp," warned Ransolm. 

"Suits its sharp-tongued owner? Is that what you're suggesting?" Leia called from the couch, chin propped up with one hand. There was a decidedly mischievous glint in her eye.

"Sharp-witted, you mean," chuckled Ransolm, delivering the first platter of food to the low table. "Silver-tongued, most of the time."

"But acid-tongued the rest?" Leia laughed, popping a nut of some sort into her mouth. After kissing Casterfo. On the mouth. Holy shit, this was for real. Poe didn’t know where to look.

"No, that's me!" Suralinda Javos appeared in the open doorway, giving no sign she’d witnessed..._that._ Sura's species spit venom, so nobody argued.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

The impromptu gathering chased away thoughts of the war for a time. Even Sura's tales of her latest escapades with Snap, Karé and Jess felt more like entertainment than the harrowing, near-death experiences they actually were. Laughter was more than welcome and hearts were lighter, but reality was never far away.

Ransolm felt a sharp pang when Chewie wandered over to the cabinet and helped himself to a bottle of Port in a Storm. He’d sampled the fortified wine of Pamarthe years ago, in the company of the late Greer Sonnel and Joph Seastriker. They’d helped Leia found the Resistance. It felt all wrong that they weren't here now.

Chewie poured two more glasses of the stuff, a substance Ransolm had sworn never to touch again. Natives of Pamarthe might be well enough accustomed to it, but even the likes of Han Solo had known better than to drink it. Chewie was one of the rare beings who could tolerate more than a sip without suffering.

Suffering struck Ransolm as fitting. Snagging the nearest glass, he raised it. "A toast," he offered quietly. "To Greer Sonnel and Joph Seastriker." The others raised their glasses in turn; those names were known to all of them. 

Leia's eyes widened a fraction when Ransolm tossed back the contents of his glass. He braced himself for the explosion to come, which was every bit as brain-searing as he remembered. Which was also the reason he missed Rey’s soft knock. 

Chewie didn’t, calling out a greeting as he waved her in. Leia and Ransolm exchanged a subtle glance. The princess patted the spot next to her, and Chewie moved over to give Rey room to join them. 

Leia raised an eyebrow in mild disapproval when the Wookiee gestured to the lone glass of Port in a Storm remaining on the table. Rey thought nothing of it, smiling her thanks and sipping the potent brew as though it were nothing more than a refreshing glass of juice. 

“Why am I not surprised?” groaned Ransolm, burying his face in his hands. Suralinda raised what passed for both eyebrows. However, Rey remained completely unaffected and happily moved on to the platter of jungle fruit. That left Ransolm wondering if one or both of the girl’s parents had been from Pamarthe.

Pleasant as the gathering was, Sura was soon forced to make her excuses. She’d hoped to run an idea or two past Leia, but her shift was about to start. Chewie offered to walk to the landing field with her since he had repairs to make anyway.

Leia felt a surge of emotion when she realized who remained: Rey, Poe, and Ransolm. All three, together. Three people she cared for deeply, and who represented her hopes for the future. Diplomat, military leader, Jedi— three of the roles that defined her. This trio would carry on those legacies.

Rey—her Jedi apprentice, who felt like the daughter she’d never borne. Han had taken to the girl almost instantly. No surprise.

There was much for Rey to learn; much that Leia still hoped to teach her. But for all that, the girl shone with promise. There was a brightness to her. A rightness. She was the one—Leia was more certain of it than ever. Rey was meant to continue her journey. Would she literally wield the blade that Leia had set down? 

And what did Rey share with her son? _Had_ Ben looked at her as though she’d wounded him? If so, Rey mattered to Ben...but then, thoughts of her only child were never far from Leia’s mind, even if she’d resigned herself to the fact he’d made his choices.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Poe. Handsome devil, more than a little reckless, and more than a little like Han. No wonder she had such a soft spot for him. Poe Dameron had learned the hard way what it meant to lead. Shara and Kes would be proud of the man he’d become; Force knew Leia was. He was the leader the Resistance deserved—she was certain of it. True, he’d made his share of mistakes. He’d known failure. But experience seldom failed to be an effective teacher.

And Ransolm—hair gone to grey, face lined by hardship. His actions had made him a pariah along with her, years ago. The First Order had tempered him even as it tortured him, and he burned with a sense of purpose they hadn’t extinguished.

Leia hadn’t told him of her dream; Force visions were notoriously unreliable.

In it, Ransolm had addressed thousands of beings in a glittering chamber of crystalline reds and pinks, a vast audience hall that rivalled the scale of the long-destroyed Galactic Senate. A striking figure all in black, his face had caught the light just so - a light that gilded sandy hair.

That light streamed through an enormous, six-sided window. The pods, the window—all had been hexagons, the shape of the First Order’s emblem. The symbolism might have disturbed Leia, but a honeycomb had six sides, too, and it was the strongest shape known to nature. Besides, the starbird—also known as the firebird—had blazed at the heart of the cut-glass window, high above Ransolm’s head. 

He was strong enough to lead others to that moment. If anyone could heal the rifts in this galaxy, it was Ransolm Casterfo. Wedge had told Leia of how, minutes after being freed, Ransolm’s first instinct had been to extend a hand to a brute— to his enemy, to one who’d treated him harshly. Winshur Bratt, the official’s name had been.

His foe had lain bleeding at his feet, utterly powerless. Yet instead of passing him by as they’d escaped, Ransolm had stopped. Extended a hand. Essentially forgiven him, and invited his onetime enemy to join them as he and the others had left the tyranny of the First Order behind.

Leia could picture it. 

Recalled to the present, Leia raised her glass and smiled at Rey, Poe and Ransolm in turn. “To you,” she said softly. “To the future. To hope.”

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +
> 
> The rest of this chapter is nonsense, of course, but I didn't make up the bit about Ransolm showing compassion to Winshur Bratt. I found it one of the most significant passages in all of ‘Resistance Reborn.’


	26. Chapter 26

+

"Walk with me." 

Casterfo seemed to have a lot on his mind but was damn steady on his feet for someone who’d downed three shots of Port in a Storm in rapid succession. That in itself was odd; he wasn’t the type to get carried away. Not with a mission ahead of him. 

Poe resented trailing in the taller man's wake but tried not to let it show. He kept his mouth shut as they slipped into the shadows. The look Leia and Casterfo had exchanged earlier told him something was going on. 

There were various cracks and openings in the limestone of the cave that served as the hangar for _Tantive IV._ Poe had never entered the one Casterfo chose. He switched on his glowrod to find that the narrow opening widened into a larger space, with a few crates stashed against the far wall and a dusty orb lying on the lid of the nearest one; it looked like the type Rey trained with.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Casterfo pressed on though, moving with an assurance that suggested he was well acquainted with this cave network. He did without illumination, so Poe switched off his own to discover that a glowing lichen on the damp stone walls was more than enough to see by. The passageway branched off in three separate places before a sliver of light appeared.

They stepped out of darkness and into a narrow, cliff-encircled valley that reminded Poe of being at the bottom of a bucket. In this case the bucket was shaped like a kite. Poe had seen it from the air but had always assumed it was inaccessible. Besides, it didn't have much strategic value.

“Nice.” He hooked his thumbs in his belt and took a moment to survey the hidden gem. A plume of mist rose from a thin cascade plummeting to its end a few steps away. It wasn’t much of a waterfall but the mist was pleasantly cooling in Ajan Kloss' heat.

The falls carved a pool large enough for swimming, and a burbling stream wound east and eventually disappeared into the limestone. Poe guessed it was the source of the water trickling out of the cliffside far below, down by one of the landing fields. 

"Everyone has their secrets," said Ransolm quietly. “This valley is one of Leia’s.” She was going to be angry with him for sharing the one they hadn’t agreed to. 

“No bugs," noted Poe. 

"That's part of its appeal.” Ransolm's smile struck Poe as rather sad. "It’s unpleasantly hot when the falls aren’t flowing.” When he leaned forward to run his fingers through the waterfall's spray, Poe noticed a signet ring he hadn’t seen before. 

“It flows only after it storms,” explained Casterfo. Last night’s had been a rip-roarer, enough to tear half the sensor-baffling netting from the trees around the landing fields. “That pool? Ideal for swimming. Nothing will eat you, either.” 

That was a standing joke on Ajan Kloss for members of Black Squadron. Snap and Karé had ventured out for a ‘honeymoon swim’, only to end up covered in leeches. The newlyweds had wished for all the salt on Crait when their unwelcome guests attached themselves in places the sun didn’t shine. For all that, Ajan Kloss was a relatively safe ball of rock.

"She finds comfort in the hot springs." Ransolm indicated a separate pool, where steam rose from the water. "She’s always cold now. Perhaps you've noticed.” 

A chill ran down Poe’s spine—he hadn’t. Now that he thought about it, it _was_ strange that Leia bundled up in a tunic and vest while the rest of them sweltered in the jungle heat. The implication dawned on him: Leia was worsening. Was it the extreme radiation poisoning? For once, he didn’t want to ask.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ _ Casterfo’s confident bearing vanished like the mist from the falls. "I hope you'll bring her here - when I’m gone." His gaze was fixed on the waterfall and his next words came out in a similar rush: ”I can’t do it, Dameron. I can’t leave - not without knowing she’ll be closely attended to. She’s lit the way for us; she’s done it all her life—“_ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

Poe felt like he’d been punched in the gut. The moisture on Casterfo’s face was not from the falls--

”She’s loathe to admit weakness; it goes against her nature. She’s so bloody independent she’s her own worst enemy! Pity is the last thing she wants, or needs, but support--she'll never ask for it." Ransolm shook his head. "I don’t mean command support; she's got that in you. She trusts you - relies on you. You're her friend. You're far more than Leia's chosen successor when it comes to the Resistance. You’re well aware.”

Some friend. Poe's stomach churned. Hadn’t Leia thought enough of him to tell him how ill she really was? He ought to have guessed—or had he always known the truth but tried to wish it away?

He recalled how gently Casterfo had seen to the princess’ hair, how he and Chewie had fussed over her earlier. Leia hadn’t moved from the couch, either--not once. It struck him now that Casterfo hadn’t left Ajan Kloss in weeks. Poe Dameron felt completely numb.

Leia was forever hanging on this guy's arm, maybe not for the reason he’d always assumed. Poe felt guilty for cracking the few jokes he had about the general and this much younger man. Was Leia hiding more than he’d suspected? Had Casterfo been helping her do it all along? 

”Understood.” Poe could choke that much out. 

The rush of the waterfall filled the silence. Still reeling, one thought came to him. “She’s gotten closer to Kaydel lately.” Connix had even taken to copying Leia’s hair. “And Rose. And Beaumont. Chewie and the rest of us are usually gone.”

Ransolm nodded. "Precisely. But they tend to remain on base." Not to mention Leia might find it easier to lean on multiple people so her physical reliance on others was less apparent. She’d have his head for laying matters out to Dameron like this-- if she found out. Ransolm felt no guilt, because this betrayal of her confidence was for Leia's stubborn good.

“They’d do anything for her,” said Poe. Half the Resistance was half in love with Leia; it had always been that way. “In fact, they were the reason I showed up this afternoon. They wanted me to check on her. No offence, but—“

”No need to explain,” Casterfo's smiled wryly. “To most people, I’ll forever be the man who betrayed Princess Leia. We both know I'm half the reason the Resistance is so small--"

_Not that you didn’t do your part,_ his expression seemed to add. "Just because Leia doesn’t blame me doesn’t mean I don’t feel a sense of responsibility.” Casterfo smiled without any humour. “I’m sure they didn’t care for the way I spoke to her earlier. No,” Ransolm shook his head again. “Their concern speaks well of _them_. I wouldn’t forgive me, either.” ____

_ _ _ He walked to the edge of the pool, running one hand absently through silver hair. Then he turned and faced Poe again. "You know, as I do, that Leia has tremendous capacity for forgiveness. After all, she forgave me—enough to save my sorry hide from Corellia.”_ _ _

__

__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Poe smirked; Leia seemed to like Casterfo’s. He and Wedge had led that mission, which would have gone ahead without the promise of those all-important lists. Poe could still picture the General's face brightening at the chance her not-so-old friend was still alive. 

Leia wasn’t the only reason people looked to Casterfo. Poe had to admit that had a presence, a quality that drew others. It wasn’t that he knew how to pour on the charm -- it was more like he sparked things into happening. Casterfo stooped to pick up a few stones and expertly skipped the first one across the surface of the water. The man could be annoyingly capable sometimes. 

_ __ _

_ __ _

”Look what she’s forgiven you, Dameron.” Ransolm waved a dismissive hand.

Make that just plain annoying, because that still hurt. Deeply, even if it was a fair assessment. 

“Yeah.” Poe thought of the lost transports, the lost fleet, the lost lives—his doing, because he’d tried to do the right thing the wrong way. Casterfo was guilty of the same. “We’re a real pair of screw-ups.” 

“Agreed. Yet Leia has faith in us. Not to mention we'd rather die than disappoint her again.” Her emissary skipped another stone over the water, sending a series of ripples across the glassy surface. 

Casterfo was like that—leaving ripples everywhere. 

“We've made mistakes. Disastrous ones, but we don’t mean to repeat them. I expect that’s half the reason Maz finds us interesting.” Ransolm smiled, an engaging one Poe wasn’t completely immune to.

Poe wasn’t sure if Casterfo had clued into what else Maz considered _interesting_ about either of them. Then again, she was forever slipping sweets into Casterfo’s pockets, so maybe he had.__

_ _ “We’ll keep an eye on her, Casterfo. Until you get back.” Not like he wouldn't have anyway; Poe bristled at how self- important this man sometimes struck him. Looking out for the General? Casterfo wasn’t the only one who worshipped the ground Leia walked on._ _

_ _ Ransolm sobered. “That’s just it—I don’t know that I will. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ _

__

__

_ _ Make that melodramatic, too. “When do we ever?” shrugged Poe. Their rate of attrition was high; there was never much point in talking about it. “I’ve seen you fly. I know you can fight. If those don’t work out? You can probably talk your way out of just about anything.” _ _

_ _ A hint of a smile crossed Ransolm’s face but disappeared quickly. He changed the topic. "It will take a galaxy united in common purpose to bring down the Order. That's what Leia believes we're speaking of right now."__

_ _ Poe recalled the glance Leia and Ransolm had exchanged when they'd left her quarters. That didn’t mean he wasn’t caught off guard by what Casterfo said next:__

_ _ “You and Leia have worked tirelessly for months to establish Resistance cells across the galaxy, cells that know nothing of each other for their own protection.”_ _

_ _ Was there nothing Leia hadn’t told this guy? There was something she hadn’t told_ Poe_, and it came as a shock:____

__

__

_ _ "It's time you were aware that we’ve built a certain amount of support in former Imperial systems—in other words, Centrist worlds. Many initially supported the First Order, but more than a few have come to regret it." __

__ Casterfo's stunts had included infiltrating a Star Destroyer with Finn but this was a whole other grav-ball game. "The bulk of these efforts takes patience and time. Time is what we've run out of. I must leave. Circumstances being what they are, it will be for months. There will be no opportunity for communication.”_ _

_ _ No wonder Casterfo was so upset about leaving the princess. And he'd been operating in staunchly enemy territory all this time? Had anyone but Leia and his core team known? __

__ Poe doubted it. He was next in line for that information and more than a little offended he hadn’t been in the loop before now. __

__ "Why would those systems support a New Republic?” That made no sense to Poe. "They were pretty pissed off with the last one.” Pissed off enough to back the First Order, one this guy’s cronies had supported.__

_ _ _ “Establish a new republic? Why? For it to abandon orphans, like Rey? Leave them to starve?" Casterfo lifted his chin.___

_ _ _ Poe thought he'd heard something about Ransolm being a war orphan as well, but figured this wasn't the time to ask. _ _ _

_ __ "So that children can be torn from their parents, as Finn was?" Casterfo continued, almost as if he were standing in front of the Senate once more. "What kind of government_ allows_ such crimes?” There was more heat in Ransolm’s voice than in the sun-baked cliffs his words echoed against. _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ “The New Republic was deeply flawed! It didn’t deserve to be blasted out of existence but it doesn't mean it ought to be resurrected, either—not structured as it was. By the time of its demise, it did little to benefit the citizens it should have protected!___

_ _ _ Why were spice cartels allowed to flourish? Don’t look at me like that, I know you weren’t involved in the worst of it. But what if you had been?” Ransolm began pacing, clearly warming to his subject. “Slavery--a scourge, a blight! Leia’s mother devoted half her life to doing away with it, and that was the _old_ Republic, the failed model for the new one._ _ _ __

_ __ What did that New Republic manage to accomplish, beyond its early stages?" He flung his arms out, and it struck Poe that Casterfo deserved a much bigger stage than a rock beside a waterfall. "When Mon Mothma disappeared, the whole thing fell apart. You care little for politics but surely you know that much! The framework Leia and I tried to work within was rotten to its core. ___

___ What good is bringing down the First Order if we don’t replace it with something that actually_ works?_ Something people can believe in--not laugh at--and certainly not suffer under! We need a democracy capable of decisive action, one that protects its citizens while allowing them their freedoms. If we’d had one, a regime like the First Order would never have gained a foothold!_ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ Ask Leia if you don’t believe me, or Sura if you’d rather not. The Galactic Senate was deeply flawed, it's constitution poorly conceived. We’re going to build something new, Dameron. Something better." _ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

“You make it sound like we’ve already won."

“That’s because we will, Dameron. You and I will make sure of it. For Leia." 

_ __ _

_ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

+


	27. Chapter 27

+

"Port in a Storm? What possessed you?"

Leia’s hair was fanned across the pillow next to Ransolm’s and she snuggled right against him so he couldn't see her face. Even so, he knew she was smiling. "You _like_ storms, the wilder the better." And he brushed a kiss to the top of her head. __

_ _ Greer had once told them how the sailing ships of Pamarthe headed out to sea in the worst of them, to avoid being dashed to pieces. He was about to do the same—there was no safe port in a galaxy ruled by the First Order, even if the circle of Leia's arms felt like one._ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

Leia unlaced their fingers to toy with the chalcedony signet she'd surprised him with earlier. Bail Organa's starbird was now Ransolm's ring, and he finally understood why she'd asked for her father's pin back. 

Maz had been in on that little conspiracy, smuggling the pin Finn had found on Crait to a jeweller she trusted enough to see Leia's design through. Unless someone sawed off his little finger, Ransolm never meant to go without it; he was finished with 'sneaking around', as Leia liked to put it. There was no need to hide his allegiance any longer. He held up his hand to study the signet again, deciding its hexagonal border set off the starbird rather well. 

"Perhaps you were born to lead us through the storm,” he murmured. Only part of him was teasing.

Leia propped herself up on an elbow. "The stars are always there, even in the worst of them. You know that.” She saw him close his eyes and smile, though that smile was definitely sad. Ransolm loved the stars—almost as much as Amilyn had. Leia sighed, tracing the longest of the scars spanning his chest; they’d never been treated with bacta. Years later was years too late. "I wish I'd found you sooner, Ran.”

_And loved you longer,_ went the old saying, the part he recited to himself inside his head. He drew her closer, cherishing the moment. Few remained to them now. Ransolm Casterfo had loved Leia Organa for years -- the idea of her, the reality--the distinction didn't matter in his mind, not any more. When she cupped his face and kissed him he returned that kiss with all his heart.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Leia had a flash of insight when their lips met, as though a window opened into Ransolm's memories. She saw multiple images of herself in the same spit-second, including one she'd shown him herself. In that secret holo she'd been wearing Jabba's chains and little else. A truth had struck Ransolm like a bolt of forked lightning those many years ago. It was just like Ransolm to have forced it away. 

Pure lust and admiration, each as strong as the other even then. He’d felt it; he'd hidden it; he'd denied it to himself at the time. They shared much more now.

Leia carded her fingers through his hair, thoughtful. Had he noticed it was different at the roots? Not likely. He wasn’t fond of looking into mirrors anymore. But hair that greyed before its time was known to revert back if stressors were removed. Leia gazed into blue, blue eyes—he’d always been so much more than she’d expected. "I'll always be with you.”

Force knew he’d try to believe her. They had hours left together; Ransolm didn't want to count the minutes.

+

Dawn was breaking in deep rich crimson as Leia and Ransolm approached the ship that would carry him away from her. A pair of Cyclorreans dragged the last of the fuel lines out of their path as their footsteps caught the morning dew. Charth and Tar were already aboard, with Rose Tico putting on a brave face and waving to Tar Har through the cockpit viewport. Tar was blowing her overly dramatic kisses. 

Leia's arm was looped through Ransolm's, and it stayed there as he made his farewells to the small group gathered to see this mission off.. 

Leia was resplendent in a cloak and gown she hadn't worn for ages, with her hair in an intricatedly woven braid that hung almost to her waist. The long, green coat she'd found for Ransolm in the _Falcon’s_ hold fit him perfectly now, as though tailor droids had seen to it. They hadn’t.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

The pair stepped away from the others and closer to the ship. 

Poe looked away as they embraced. This parting was as public as their reunion had been. It struck him that it ought to have been private. 

He recalled that night at the Collective's safe house, when two old friends had met for the first time after years of believing the other dead. Leia had held Ransolm gently-- so gently—as though he might break. 

Gently was how Ransolm held Leia now-- reverently, even--but it seemed to Poe as though Ransolm knew that breaking was something Leia would never, ever do.

+


	28. Tonsure

+

Ransolm nearly missed the battle of Exegol.

The call had come in time for he and Charth and Tar to race to Riosa, where they'd joined a fleet that jumped to the unheard-of system just in time for eerie blue lightning to crackle from the planet's surface and send them all plummeting, systems offline. But the fall had ended as quickly as it had begun, so with all systems go and with Tar and Charth on one wing and Olen Valmis on the other, Ransolm's starfighter had led the Riosan attack on the masses and masses of Final Order Star Destroyers rising from Exegol's surface, a fleet so unthinkably huge that it stretched as far as anyone's eyes could see.

They'd concentrated on one ship at a time, taking their cue from what little they could hear from Lando, Poe, or anyone else in the chaos of that desperate hour. Communication had been nearly impossible. His team had immediately targeted the Star Destroyers' weapons systems. Ransolm's former hobby--one that sickened him to think of now--proved invaluable. Those battle simulations? Stupid holos played for 'fun', those hours he'd come to regard as wasted? They weren't so wasted after all, because any 'serious' student of Imperial military history knew how best to render those capital ships useless. They hadn't destroyed many of the Destroyers, but neutralizing their weapons systems counted for plenty. 

They'd been far from the heart of the battle, but Ransolm took heart in what lay before him once the Resistance and its allies had prevailed. Dread of Palpatine and what he meant to resurrect had succeeded in uniting a fractured galaxy in common cause. Such unity was by its very nature temporary, of course. Once that common cause evaporated, multiple factions would step into a dangerous power vacuum.

Leia had been blasted into another vacuum once, but this one he'd leap into for her sake. It struck him as ironic that order could very well rise from the chaos he had once feared--even despised. He and Leia had argued over that so passionately once, so angrily...

She was gone. He didn't need anyone to tell him so, though the absence of her voice at Exegol confirmed it for him. She'd never have remained at the base--not Leia. She'd have thrown herself into that wildest of storms, embraced it for the possibilities it presented, even if a tiny part of her might have feared it. Leia had led them to this moment, to this victory. Rey, Poe, Finn and the others had led them through this particular storm, this battle--but it was a fight Leia had taken up decades before, a victory she had never lost hope or faith in.

Ransolm knew that his time had come. It was his duty to reach out, to step out into the spaces that divided the galaxy and reach out to others, to build the bridges between opposing factions and points of view that he and Leia had begun to seven years ago. It wasn't going to be sunshine and rainbows--not a chance. Politics was messy business.

And so, when the heart of the Resistance returned to Ajan Kloss and the celebrations that followed, Ransolm plotted a course for the heart of Centrist space and followed the plan he and Leia had laid out as they'd lain beneath the stars on that very same moon.

+

Maz found him in the firelight. 

Seven days after Exegol, he'd returned to Ajan Kloss to help coordinate efforts to deal with what remained of the First Order. Resistance cells and sympathizers had risen as one against the Order's forces in the aftermath of Exegol--First Order, Final Order--the enemy felt interchangeable at times. Planetary defence forces, ordinary citizens, smugglers--everything and everyone the galaxy had was thrown against the forces of tyranny in one fell swoop. That being said, fragments of the First Order were scattered across the stars, those fragments had allegiances that were not always clear, and various factions were already squabbling over large swathes of unprotected territory. Millions upon millions of vulnerable beings were very much at risk.

It was one hell of a mess out there.

Good thing Generals Dameron and Finn had the Resistance movement well in hand; they would be a driving force behind the final assault on Arkanis.

Arkanis--Ransolm slipped the dagger from its sheath. Leia's dagger--sharp enough to slit anyone's throat. Arkanis meant Carise Sindian. He studied his face in the mirror of the blade, which glinted in the firelight. He meant to take Carise to task for what she'd done, and Chewie wanted to be there to see it. The Wookiee had growled promises of retribution for the pain that viper had inflicted on his chosen family. Ransolm had heard tell of Chewie's idea of 'justice'...

No, that wasn't a thought worthy of Leia or this blade, no matter how he hated the sight of it. Ransolm sheathed the dagger with a shudder. He'd only accepted it at Maz's insistence. She'd found him alone, here in the valley, with nothing but the stars for company. From Leia's hand to his...Leia had apparently wanted it so, though when Maz had told him the truth of it, that truth had scalded him. He'd vowed then and there never to speak of it, not to a living soul. He couldn't picture Leia choosing such a path...though Maz had explained why it had to be.

He thrust the thought away along with the blade. 

Ransolm picked up the datapad instead. Maz had delivered that privately too. It was Leia's personal datapad, the one they shared. He accessed it with a thumbprint and a quick retinal scan. He'd recorded poems there, stories...every time he'd left her, he'd left words to remember him by. Leia had been left too often and too abruptly by the people she'd loved most. Ransolm had sworn never to leave her that way--not ever. And so, he never had.

His shoulders shook as he found a simple message Leia had left for him, recorded in calm, reassuring tones--

'Do not stand at my grave and weep,  
I am not there,  
I do not sleep.

I am the thousand winds that blow,  
I am the diamond glints on snow...'

+

Some time later, Rey sought him out.

She accepted his silent invitation to join him. Leia's apprentice crossed her legs and sat down beside him on the rocky ground, tossing a few twigs onto the fire from the small pile between them. The dry twigs snapped and crackled, sending sparks and embers floating skyward.

"She's with them now, isn't she," he said quietly. With those she loved most: her son, her husband, her brother. 

Rey nodded, handing him a slender, cylindrical object Ransolm didn't recognize. Then his eyes widened and he gave a sharp intake of breath--

"Leia's!" Her lightsaber, beautiful to behold and strangely warm in his palms. It was completely unlike the saber Rey had worked so hard to repair, and equally different from the weapon he'd seen at her belt just this morning. This weapon was every inch as beautiful and refined and elegant as the princess herself--was that Mon Cala pearl inlay? And the precious metal rings were polished to a mirrorlike sheen. _Mirrorbright_, he smiled to himself, recalling Leia's favourite melody. She'd named her ship for it once.__

_ _Ransolm had seen numerous holos of Aldera, and it seemed to him that this weapon had been crafted with the same aesthetic that inspired the Alderaanian capital's architecture. He smiled again, thinking it was very much _Leia_. Beautiful, and deadly when necessary. "It's perfect," he said softly, wondering where it had come from. It somehow made up for the burden of the other blade--not that this was his to keep.___ _

_ _ _ _Reluctantly, he handed it back to Rey. She shook her head, indicating he should keep it for the time being. _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _"Is she, though?" Rey hadn't answered his question. He thumbed the blade, running his fingers over its gleaming metal rings and wondering what colour it would be if he dared flip the switch and turn it on._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _"Yes." Rey looked up at the stars, scattered across the velvet of the night sky. Uninhabited as it was, Ajan Kloss had no light pollution and there weren't any clouds blanketing them right now. "She's with you too, though. She'll always be with you."_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Wise beyond her years, so serene--so composed. The rest of them were shattered at Leia's passing. Yet Rey--her connection to the Force must be such that she felt her Master's presence. Ransolm felt more like Chewie, who was off in the jungle, keening. Mourning. This was his first chance to do the same._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Ransolm snatched the dagger with a haste that startled Rey, who must have misinterpreted his intent. _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _He grabbed a fistful of his hair, slicing through it with a single stroke and tossing into the flames. The acrid smoke it produced made him want to retch, but he ignored the stench and cut another handful, letting the flames lick away at it as he let the hair fall. He stared into the fire, blankly repeating the motion as Rey watched him without comment. _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _"Tonsure," she finally said._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Threepio must have explained the ritual. How else would Rey have known? The women of Alderaan wore twists called mourning braids, as Leia had done for Han and for Luke. The men didn't style their hair--they cut it. Sometimes, all of it. And whatever they took, they burned._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Rey furrowed her brow but made no move to interrupt his solemn task. It was a crude, uneven job, certainly not meant to be done with a dagger, but it felt fitting to use it. When Rey offered to help, he thought it wise to let her. He wouldn't do anyone a favour by accidentally slicing himself open, and his emotions made his hand less steady than hers. Besides, this ritual wasn't usually performed alone. Wordlessly he handed Rey the blade._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _"How much?" she asked._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _"All of it." The weapon was razor-sharp, so that was how Rey used it._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Ransolm's thoughts wandered to the last time someone had shaved him. It had been in First Order custody, hours before his rescue, and it had been living hell--he'd been sure they'd meant to slice his throat and finally end him. He'd wanted to be ended, or very nearly. ____

___ This was torture of a different sort, the anguish of remembering and grieving the one he loved above all others; the one who'd understood him as no one else had; who'd crashed through the walls he'd built around himself years and years ago, who'd saved him, inspired him--_ _ _

_ _ _ _Leia always would._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Rey passed small handfuls of hair to Ransolm, who let them fall into the fire and burn. Smoke spiralled toward the heavens and he closed his eyes, tilting his head up and letting the tears fall as they would--which they did. There hadn't been time to grieve before now. Rey made no comment, silently finishing her task. Some of the hair fell down the back of Ransolm's collar but that couldn't be helped. _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Task complete, Rey got to her feet and handed him the tool he'd used for tonsure. He nodded his thanks and wiped off the blade, sheathing it and attaching it to his belt after all. Seeing that Rey meant to leave, he handed her Leia's saber._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Which she refused. _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _"Keep it for now--for Arkanis. Ben thinks you should."_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _She left before he had a chance to ask her what she meant._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _+_ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leia's 'poem' is taken from a Hopi prayer.


	29. A Reckoning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Former Senatorial Palace, Arkanis, seven days after the Battle of Exegol

+

Ransolm ducked as the volley of darts shot past his head and studded the wall behind him. He’d just barged into Carise Sindian’s office. 

She’d missed this time, but the ammunition she'd used against him years ago had hit the mark. She’d turned him into a weapon aimed at Leia and the New Republic with devastating consequences. Ransolm hated that truth but resented Carise more. This time, the office was _hers_, and he was the unexpected guest.__

__

__

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"Poison!” Ransolm flung the accusation like the darts she’d just fired. "Some would call it a woman's weapon.” 

Carise rose gracefully from behind her ornately carved desk, not looking overly concerned that he’d made it past security and successfully breached her inner sanctum. She’d also failed to kill him with a touch of the button concealed beneath her desk. That had to have vexed her.

"We women are weak— is that what you’re implying?" Carise raised an elegant brow, gliding over to a sideboard and pouring two glasses of wine from a cut-glass decanter as if this were a social call. 

Ransolm cringed inwardly at the memory that prompted._”I believe in strong leadership by good men!”_ Idiotic. He hadn’t meant exactly what he’d said back then but he’d shouted it at Leia all the same.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

"Far from it, Carise." He pointedly left out the 'Lady’ she’d once been. Leia cared little for hereditary titles but Carise was a different breed. The Elder Houses had stripped her of hers for having broken the Royal Seal and revealing the secret of Leia’s birth to him—and, by extension, to everyone. Ransolm was glad to see it still stung.

_ __ _

_ __ _

Carise disregarded his tone. She shook her mane of glossy black hair and the smile she favoured him with next sent shivers down his spine, not for the reasons Carise might have hoped. While undeniably beautiful, his former Centrist colleague reminded Ransolm of a dragon from children’s stories. 

Her lair was an opulent space with rich, dark panelling, priceless silk carpets, and gleaming marble tiles underfoot. A trio of massive bronze chandeliers illuminated the works of art gracing the walls, all of them certainly stolen from planets the First Order had subjugated. Carise had good taste in art—he could give her that much. He couldn’t help but note that the canvas taking pride of place closely matched Leia’s description of the Alderaanian masterpiece the Empire had pilfered from her stateroom aboard _Tantive IV._

_ _ Carise herself glittered scarlet and danger in a low-cut gown of crimson shimmersilk that set off her curves and her dark golden skin to perfection. Priceless jewels flashed at her wrists, fingers and earlobes, and another fortune in gems was embroidered into her sweeping cloak. This dragon did more than perch on her riches— her treasure travelled with her, every step she took._ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

Such a waste! The obscene display of wealth in her attire could have fed and housed thousands of suffering beings for years. 'First Lady' of the First Order, indeed. Brendol Hux had chosen well. 

_ __ _

_ __ _

Carise ignored Ransolm’s glare and offered him one of the crystal goblets, smiling when he didn’t so much as acknowledge the gesture.

"Have it your way, Casterfo.” Setting it down with an eloquent shrug, she took a sip from her own. “What a waste," she drawled, making no secret of admiring the figure he cut. That was an amusing echo of his own thoughts a moment earlier. Carise arranged herself against the front of her desk to draw attention to the slit in her gown. 

Apparently she was resorting to other weapons. "The dashing Ransolm Casterfo...to think you might have had it all!" 

Ah, her bejewelled satin slipper tapped a floor tile near the edge of the carpet—the signal sensor he’d been warned about— while she put on that little show. The corner of Ransolm’s mouth twitched. Somebody was going to be _very_ disappointed once she realized help wasn't coming from that quarter.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

"I meant to _change_ it all, Carise.”__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Carise rolled her eyes and gave an exaggerated sigh. "Ever the idealist! If you truly intend to ‘change it all’, it’s not too late to change your mind as to how best to accomplish it.” She offered him the glass a second time. 

Her dark eyes turned to flint when he made no move to accept. "You honesty fear poison-a woman's weapon, wasn’t that how you put it?"

"A coward's,” spat Ransolm, drawing the hilt of Leia’s lightsaber from beneath his cloak. “_This_ is a woman's.” Surely Carise could guess whose.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

To her credit, she didn’t so much as flinch.

“The rumours are true?” She seemed genuinely shocked but recovered in time for some crude innuendo. “You? Playing sabers with Princess Leia? Is _that_ how you wish to be remembered, Casterfo? As nothing more than Leia Organa's...toyboy?” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “At _her_ age! Surely you could do better than—“____

__

__

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Not. Another. Word.” Leia’s ice blue blade hissed to life and Carise paled. She’d hit a nerve, though not the one she’d meant to. 

“You’re not fit to breathe the same air as Leia Organa!” grated Ransolm. He held the blade level with Carise’s chin, burning at the though of all she’d done—to him, to Leia, to the New Republic, to the Hosnian system. Taking her head would be _glorious_—taking her head would also sully this blade, along with everything Leia had ever stood for—__

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Not once did she abuse her powers,” Ransolm’s eyes glittered as he drew close enough for the tip of the laser sword to almost touch Carise’s throat. This time, she actually looked afraid. 

_As well you ought to, Carise!_ “Not once did Leia seek to sway the Senate to do her bidding in that fashion." His face was white--Ransolm was livid. "_Never_ did she seek power she could so easily have _taken._ The Princess of Alderaan devoted her life to the service of others—you cannot say the same!”______

__

__

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_ __ _

”Nor would I wish to!” Carise had concluded the obvious by now; namely, that no one was coming to her rescue.

“Expecting someone?” Ransolm feigned innocence. He thumbed the saber’s switch to deactivate it and let his hand fall. “I regret to inform you that your people are otherwise occupied. In fact, half of them have changed sides. Turned in by your own—that speaks volumes, does it not?” 

It was petty to relish the sight of Carise fighting down her panic, but at that point Ransolm didn’t care. Her guards weren’t coming, Arkanis was theirs—what was she imagining? That remnants of her First Order would miraculously swoop in; that Kylo Ren himself would appear in the sky overhead with a Super Star Destroyer? Indeed, her expression turned to one of triumph when she spotted the wedge-shaped capital ship in the viewport above them.

”You see, Casterfo? Your imagined triumph is short-lived. Arkanis is too strong to fall. It’s not too late...not for you to back the winning side.” She smiled, intending to attract, or at least to distract—

Until Ransolm snapped cuffs around her slender wrists. 

”Don’t be a fool!” hissed Carise. “That’s a Super Star Destroyer! Unchallenged! Which means your plans have already failed. What chance do you Rebel _scum_ have—“__

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Since that ship is under the command of New Alliance Captain Edrison Peavey? A rather good one, I should think.” Ransolm enjoyed her shock. 

Had Calrissian arranged for that vessel to be positioned low in the sky, directly above Carise’s palace? That was just his style—unless it had been Dameron. Both had a sense of occasion. He wouldn’t put it past Peavey, either. He’d once admonished Ransolm for calling Carise a viper, if only because he’d considered it an insult to snakes. 

Ransolm had no idea whose plan it was to fool around with a ship kilometres long but knew who it belonged to. “A fine officer, Peavey. One of many who’ve grown disenchanted with your First Order. The New Galactic Alliance welcomes his service.” He waved the others in, glad he hadn’t given in to darker urges. 

He would never have pictured what came next, for as Rey and Tar entered the chamber the shock on Carise Sindian’s face was an absolute treat.

”Cutar Har, grav-ball star,” Tar grinned. He gave her a mocking half-bow. “Haven’t forgotten me already, have you, Carise?” Twin spots of colour stained Carise’s cheeks as Tar holstered his weapon, hooked his thumbs into his belt and rocked back and forth on his heels. He made sure to run his eyes up and down Carise’s figure just about as blatantly as she’d ogled Ransolm earlier—he always took his job as backup seriously. 

“A gentleman never kisses and tells, of course,” he continued, winking. “Not when there’s a lady involved. But we both know that’s not what you are.” 

__

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Ransolm couldn’t conceal his shock. _Tar?_ Adding insult to injury? What history could he and Carise possibly share? __

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Cutar Har had been a very innocent eighteen, fresh from his team’s first Championship, when Senator Carise Sindian of Arkanis hooked her claws into him after a gala evening on Hosnian Prime. She hadn’t struck him as terribly generous then—never mind what he knew of her now. 

“Pretty is as pretty does,” Tar reminded Carise, who shook with indignation in her handcuffs. “You’re pretty much as ugly as they come.” 

”Biometrics,” Rey called out from the console behind Carise’s desk. She’d ignored the minor melodrama and accessed the data they’d come for, data that Sindian’s capture would make considerably easier to retrieve.

Ransolm jerked his chin in Rey’s direction to indicate that Carise should do the honours. When she didn’t budge, he took her firmly by the arm and helped her make the right decision. 

“And if I refuse?” 

Carise meant to be a pain in the ass. Fine, because Beaumont, Maz and that Codebreaker friend of hers would get what they needed eventually, even if it took a few weeks. It was getting awfully tempting to stun Carise with the blaster bolt she more than deserved. 

Ransolm was taking a moment to picture that scenario when Carise let out a shriek. Her right hand was being pulled toward the screen as if by an invisible hand, the pad of her thumb forced to make the necessary contact.

Rey simply pursed her lips and shrugged. “It’s for a good cause.” 

Chewie roared his approval from the doorway. Retrieving the data without delay would help reunite millions of stolen children with the families they’d been torn from to feed Brendol Hux’s stormtrooper programme. 

Those troopers would be lost children no more, not with Finn inspiring them to join the Alliance in droves and with this highly classified, highly encrypted information righting a great wrong. Lando Calrissian’s self-appointed mission to lead the family reunification efforts was about to get a whole lot easier.

“Retinal scan,” said Rey calmly. “I suggest you cooperate. Ben Solo has less patience than I do.” She smiled sweetly at Carise, who was beyond confused. Carise complied with the order though.

”Your Emperor is gone, Sindian,” Rey assured her. “Ben Solo and I saw to it. Leia Organa played her part, and your Order is no more.” 

“A new galactic alliance—is that how you phrased it?” Carise scowled at Ransolm.

“What, it doesn’t roll off your tongue? I’ve done you the honour of letting you be among the first to hear the name--it’s only fitting.” Ransolm and Leia had been among the first to uncover traces of the First Order.

”How sad for you, Casterfo!” Carise taunted, ever spiteful. “You’d _so_ love to see me dead, but I know you too well—we both know I’m destined for trial. The ever-so-honourable Ransolm Casterfo, determined to be _fair_—how very unfair to _you.” ___

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For Carise Sindian had taken a personal interest in her former colleague’s imprisonment. She’d been there more than once, watched as they’d tortured him, made damn sure he’d known she was there—had she given those orders herself? Ransolm fought down the urge to lash out. He refused to give her further power over him. 

”Why bother, Carise? It’s finished. Your Emperor is no more. His own heir saw to it.”

She must have known that Hux was dead; she must have known of Exegol; surely she knew that the First Order fleet was in shambles. What Carise Sindian plainly _didn’t_ know was that Palpatine had ever had an heir. That verged on the comical considering she set so much store in bloodlines.__

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_ __ _

”Would you kneel to that heir, I wonder?” asked Ransolm. 

Carise’s reply was lost when Tar stage-whispered a comment about Carise on her knees that finally shut her up. He must have been getting bored by all the chit-chat, because he proceeded to frog-march her Chewie’s way. Plainly this party was over. 

”I wouldn’t let you,” called Rey sharply.

”You?” Carise whispered, turning back to stare at Rey. “You—?” She’d heard this girl referred to as “the light of the Resistance”. _She_ was Palpatine’s heir? The desert rat Armitage had spoken of?__

_ __ _

_ __ _

”Bloodlines aren’t destiny, Carise,” said Ransolm. “They are no more than potential. You’ve always had it wrong.” 

_ __ _

_ __ _

Tar smirked. ”Kinda poetic that an orphaned kid toppled old Palps in the end, don’t you think?”

Especially since that psycho granddad of hers had arranged for said ‘orphaning’ in the first place; Rey had told him so on the way to Arkanis. Tar couldn’t blame the girl for wanting to get her family tree out into the open. That way, shaking it later wouldn’t hurt.

As for hurting people? The thought of touching a woman who’d hurt so many made his skin crawl—good thing he was wearing gloves. How in the seven hells of Mustafar had Ran ever managed to restrain himself? He was over by the window and still glaring daggers at Carise when it would have been perfectly understandable if he’d skewered her with that lightsaber instead. Would _that_ have been poetic? __

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_ __ _

Chewie narrowed his eyes and growled as Tar escorted Carise the few remaining steps to the door. Tar had no idea what the Wookiee’d just said but knew that Chewie had a bone to pick with Sindian. That might be entertaining— Chewbacca struck him as pretty handy at improv.

“‘Swift retribution’?” he chirped. “Did I hear you properly, big guy?”

The Wookiee glowered at Carise before rumbling something Tar didn’t quite catch. That didn’t matter, because he and Chewie were on the same wavelength.

“I don’t think he likes you, Carise,” Tar deadpanned, slowly shaking his head. “Forget the ‘swift’ part—he wants to take his time. You pretty much wrecked his chosen family. Not sure how Wookiee justice lines up with the new Alliance’s, but I figure he’s got first dibs on you.”

Chewie moaned his agreement and took hold of Carise’s cuffs. 

Which was when she lost it completely.“You can’t mean to release me into the custody of—of—this _beast_, Casterfo!” she shrieked, shrinking away from the Wookiee. Typical Old Empire. She had a serious thing against non-humans. “I have the right to a fair trial. I demand justice!”__

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Justice for Ben Solo?” Rey arched a brow.

Chewie ignored the shrieking and proceeded to escort Carise into New Alliance custody.

Tar trailed behind them through the palace’s echoing galleries. Whistling at his reflection in the gilt-edged mirrors, he decided it was more than fair that Carise would have plenty of time to imagine her arms being torn off before actually facing her trial.

+


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crait, 18 months after Exegol

+

"That went well." Ransolm's Chief of Staff eyed the galaxy's first Prime Senator, who smoothed back his hair and frowned at his reflection in the mirror.

"Agreed."

It was Suralinda's turn to frown. Ransolm shouldn’t, not on the eve of the official opening of the new Galactic Senate. Palpatine was long gone, the Grysk War was over, their new alliance with the Chiss was on a solid footing--what was there to frown about? 

Perhaps that Thrawn would be at tonight’s reception. The former Imperial Grand Admiral was Chiss. Two days after his election, Ransolm Casterfo had stunned everyone by announcing his intention to step down for undisclosed ‘personal reasons’. The Executive Council had flipped their medullas and called him on the carpet to explain.

Turned out he’d just been informed he had infant son, the product of a wartime fling with one of those mysterious Chiss. Formidable allies, the Chiss had joined forces with the new Alliance to eliminate the Grysk threat. Even so, the thought of a neighbouring galaxy full of Chiss warriors made plenty of people nervous. 

Thank the Force that Admiral Poe Dameron had persuaded Ransolm to withdraw his resignation. After Poe played his ‘Leia-wouldn’t-want-that’ card Casterfo had insisted on a Senate-wide referendum, even though the result had been a foregone conclusion. If the galaxy agreed on anything, it was that formerly disgraced senator-turned-war hero-turned-peacemaker Casterfo ought to haul his ass into his Senate pod and get on with leading.

That he had a half-Chiss child? The court of public opinion agreed with the Senate: that was nobody’s business but the Prime Senator’s and the child’s anonymous mother. Naturally the HoloNet was full of speculation as to who she might be. However, heading to Wild Space to investigate was well beyond the most intrepid reporter.

A handful of people knew that Ransolm wouldn't play a role in his son’s life until the boy was twelve. It sounded bizarre, but the mystery kid had what his father referred to as a 'duty to his people'. Duty—stars knew Casterfo lived for it.

As for who the mother was, the topic was off limits even to Tar and Charth. The infant was Force-sensitive. Did that mean she was, too? So much about the Chiss was a mystery. How did they navigate those starships of theirs through dangerous, ever-shifting Wild Space?

Ransolm had once led it slip—privately, of course—that Force-gifted Chiss were known as “skywalkers”, an eerie coincidence given their own galaxy's legends. Luke Skywalker, Leia Skywalker Organa Solo--Master Rey went by 'Skywalker' now. Even without the capital S it was strange to think the Chiss had skywalkers of their own. 

Sura waited for Ransolm to signal he was ready to depart for tonight’s function. At the moment he was drumming his fingers on his desk and reading something over on his datapad, probably his notes for tonight’s speech. He ran his free hand through his hair as he did. Sura figured it could use some messing up these days.

What did it do to a person, knowing they had a child whose life they weren’t part of? One he hadn’t known the existence of until recently? It had to have messed up more than Casterfo’s hair.

That might have been part of the reason her new boss lived in his office. Its ensuite fresher and dressing room allowed him to avoid his official residence, and as far as Sura knew, Ransolm even slept here. 

Good thing Tar and the others were due to arrive for the festivities. 

“Tonight is strictly business but tomorrow might be fun.” Suralinda adjusted the neckline of her evening gown in front of the mirror Casterfo had been frowning into earlier. 

“Indeed.” 

His clipped tone told Sura that he wasn’t anticipating fun in the near future. He joined her at the mirror, forcing his hair to behave before straightening his bow tie more aggressively than strictly necessary. 

White tie—very nice; he carried that look off well. That it would take an ice pick to crack through the wall he’d built around those feelings of his? Not so nice.

Prime Senator Casterfo would be unfailingly charming and gracious in public; he was probably born that way. He meant what he said, stood by his principles and had charisma to burn, even if it sometimes came across as more of a burning intensity since his election. 

Just because he drew people to him, didn’t mean he let many close. 

”Have we any additions for the tree-planting?” 

_That_ was a surprising question. Rey, Finn, Poe, Chewie, Black Squadron, Wedge and the Wexleys, Charth—the list of participants wasn’t short. Even Threepio would be planting an Alderaanian Chinar sapling in Leia’s honour. Sura had arranged for hers to be next to the fussy droid’s for the entertainment value. The surviving ‘Corellian Eleven’ would take part too, to mark their loyalty to Leia and their contributions to the defeat of the First and Final Orders.__

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_ __ _

A lone invitee had yet to reply—to Ransolm. He'd issued the invitations personally. 

“Has Hevasi Joy not replied?” asked Suralinda. She watched his face carefully. 

_ __ _

_ __ _

“I have yet to hear from her.” 

“That’s surprising. I thought you were close.” 

“‘Were’ is the operative word. We haven’t spoken since Cerea.” Ransolm fiddled with his cuffs and straightened his jacket. His face had become unreadable. That bothered him, did it? Not that he could have done much about it until now. Two wars, two alliances and a hectic political campaign didn’t leave time for social calls.

“Peacetime must agree with her,” pressed Sura. Hevasi had just released a critically-acclaimed album. She’d published a volume of poetry last year too. According to Threepio, Ransolm had read every word.

”I should hope so. I expect it agrees with everyone.” 

That sounded haughty, a sure sign something was hitting a mark. Ransolm did that thing with his hair again, only this time he didn’t fix it in the mirror afterward. 

“Do we know if she’s all right?” His mouth thinned. He adjusted his cuffs for the third time, which meant it was show time. “It’s unlike her not to have responded, and she’d hardly turn up unannounced. It’s not like Hevasi—she’s no drama queen.”

_No, but I am,_ thought Sura to herself as she pulled on her gloves. Ransolm did the same; a receiving line of hands, paws and flippers could make for sticky work without them. The Prime Senator and his Chief of Staff put on their game faces and left other concerns behind. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

+

What a night. 

Ransolm loosened his tie, shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair. He undid his cufflinks next, tossing them onto his desk where they skittered across its surface without quite falling off. Other than that, his desk was clear. Clear or empty— he supposed it depended on your point of view. 

His life was rather like that. 

Sighing, he unbuttoned his collar and made his way to the viewport overlooking Crait’s new capital. Its lights spangled across formerly barren salt flats. Salt—Crait had plenty. Maybe it would keep out the rot. 

Leia would understand.

No one fought over this basically useless mineral world; no system would profit more than any other with the Senate located here. Equal parts distant from the Core and the Outer Rim, Crait was unburdened by Coruscant’s history, not to mention that a permanent seat of governance wasn’t the appalling waste of resources a rotating New Republic Senate had always been. 

A few senators whined, mostly about the natural surfacing of the garden paths surrounding the Senate proper. The salt discouraged the wearing of sweeping finery by staining hems. Blood-red crystals lying just below the pristine, white surface served as a reminder of the blood that had once been shed here, on Crait, in the name of defending freedom. If elected officials did their jobs actual bloodshed could often be avoided. 

Leia would have understood the symbolism.

He gazed up at the night sky through the panoramic viewport. Stars, but he missed her. Would she approve of it all? Of the restructuring, of their efficiencies, the changes? What would she make of this fledgling Galactic Alliance? It wasn’t perfect, of course. Nothing ever was.

Leia would definitely appreciate the Senate chamber. Not for its beauty alone, though that was undisputed and a photographer’s dream. The crystalline walls of the vast, underground Chamber were spectacular—glittering, stunning. Awe-inspiring in truth, and a marvel of engineering besides. He could picture her laughing at how the whole damn thing was underground. She'd consider it appropriate for the galaxy’s official snake pit.

Sighing, he covered his face with his hands. Then he tapped the controls that sent the bed sliding out of one wall. He’d best lie down. What was the sense in going to his quarters? There was nothing for him there that he didn’t have here. 

Sura constantly nattered at him to decide what he wanted when it came to his ‘official residence.’ That, or give designers a free hand. He kept putting it off. He’d been so involved in helping design the Senate complex, he didn’t have the heart to see to something so trivial. 

Slipping off his shoes, he kicked them under the caf table and made his way to his desk. More out of habit than for any other reason, he opened a drawer on the left-hand side. It was empty, save for Leia’s dagger and his personal datapad. He slid the drawer shut without looking at either, then folded his arms to give himself a place to rest his admittedly weary head.

\+ 

”Do I really have to tell you that you ought to be in bed?” 

_That voice_—-a strand of Leia’s hair tickled his right ear. She hugged him from behind the desk chair, her cheek warm against his own.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Impossible,” he breathed. His heart raced as adrenaline shot through him. Opening his eyes—would it chase her away? He was fool enough to do it anyway. Rather than vanish, the vision that was Leia perched herself on the edge of Ran’s desk, blocking the drawer he’d opened earlier. She was close enough that her leg touched his. 

Leia smiled, oddly shimmering and iridescent but otherwise just as he remembered her—the day they’d met. Ran felt goosebumps prickle the back of his neck. “Truly impossible.” He shivered, and she reached out to stroke his face and tell him otherwise.

“You already know that nothing is impossible.”

Ran closed his eyes again and tried to remember to breathe. When he looked up again, Leia’s form rippled. This time, she was older.

“Does this make it any easier?” She quirked a brow.

“Not especially.” Could he trust his eyes, his ears? Her touch—Leia’s hand found his, and their fingers laced themselves together without conscious effort on his part. This had to be a dream—if he was delusional, it didn’t bode well for the Galactic Alliance. 

Ran silently counted well past ten. In whatever version of heaven this was, Leia carded fingers through his hair. 

”Don’t overthink it,” she murmured. He could hear her smile.

”You know me so well,” he whispered.”

”Possibly.” 

He said nothing, hesitant to break the spell—which didn’t matter one whit, for Leia’s tone abruptly changed: “I’m a little confused, Ran.” 

He straightened up at once.

“What do you think you’re _doing_?” There was no doubt in his mind she was about to let him have it. “Everything you’ve ever fought for—ever believed in—it’s right here!” Leia swept her arm out to indicate his office, the viewport, the capital beyond. “You nearly walked away, and not without a little drama! _Why_?” ____

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”To see my son.” He’d been three paces from his ship when Dameron caught him, shouting at him about promises to Leia and how he was breaking them, how he was betraying her all over again—

Leia took firm hold of the newly-minted Prime Senator’s face. “Then why _didn’t_ you, idiot?” Her voice had grown as soft as her expression. “Heading to Chiss space would have been completely understandable given the circumstances. Asking for a leave of absence would have been _more_ than reasonable! What made you feel the situation warranted resignation?” ____

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“You have to understand how it happened—“ he began. But Leia cut him off. 

“In the usual way, I expect.” The corner of her mouth twitched but Ransolm couldn’t share her amusement.

“The Chiss do nothing by accident, Leia!” He had to make her see. “ Thrawn will ever be a master strategist, a brilliant tactician. You know his history better than most. Imagine, if you will, a galaxy of Chiss—“ 

“You don’t trust them?”

”I don’t _distrust_ them. We would never have defeated the Grysk without them, nor would they have done so without us. For now, our informal alliance is mutually beneficial.”__

_ __ _

_ __ _

”You fear that will change?” Leia tilted her head expectantly.

He exhaled sharply. “I don’t understand why it happened!” 

”You suspect this was intentional?“

”That it was planned? Yes! I’ve been assured that it was. Not the original...situation,” he clarified, flushing beneath her gaze. He’d dropped Leia’s hand. “That began spontaneously enough. It functioned as a release for both of us, and was always understood as such.” He dismissed the thought of it as anything more with a wave of his hand.

“Mutual respect aside, there was never an emotional aspect to this. That isn’t the issue—not at all. 

Carelessness is not a hallmark of the species, Leia! The mother of my child is a Chiss commander. Brilliant—cautious—_careful_. Prepared for every eventuality, of that I can assure you. Which is why I would never have imagined this outcome!”__

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_ __ _

Leia raised an eyebrow. ”Does the ‘outcome’ have a name?”

“Of course he does—the Chiss version is a mouthful. They all are,” he added with a wry smile. “Mitt’hraw’nuruodo. Say _that_ ten times quickly.”__

_ __ _

_ __ _

“That’s Thrawn’s name.” 

“Yes. As Thrawn’s descendant, my son’s Chiss name shares certain elements. It’s far more difficult to pronounce than Thrawn’s; don’t even ask me to try.”

Leia shook her head. ”You, father to Thrawn’s...grandson? What odds would Threepio ever have given that?” 

“Grandson, great-grandson--I’m not entirely certain. The day of my election I received two messages from Chiss space; the first was an official messsage of congratulations on behalf of the Ascendancy. The second was to inform me I had a healthy, four-month-old son no one saw fit to mention earlier!” He pounded a fist on the desk in frustration. 

“Which couldn’t have gone over well—“

“About as well as you can imagine! I was stunned. Angry.” Ransolm shook his head. “My reaction was the opposite of measured,” he admitted. “Accusing someone of duplicity verges on a diplomatic incident, I’m sure. Which may be half the reason a Chiss delegation turned up yesterday.”

“Uninvited?” 

He shook his head again. “Unexpected though, given the private circumstances. The invitation was extended before the election on behalf of the Galactic Alliance. I personally had no contact with the Chiss after the Grysk War ended—not until election results were in. It’s a mercy Charth dealt with them; I could scarcely find it in myself to be civil.”

Leia nodded, thoughtful. “So they intentionally avoided interference in our elections by keeping this from you. You might not like that logic, but it seems likely. I would even go so far as to say it bodes well. You fear he’ll be used against you somehow. Even now?”

“I can’t imagine how, but it seems to me it’s rather convenient to have the galaxy’s first Prime Senator in a vulnerable position —“

“Which you couldn’t state publicly for fear of offending the Chiss, who may actually view this as a useful, tangible connection—“

“That’s exactly what I fear. Not to mention I resent being used as...breeding stock!" he sputtered. 

“Understandable. But do you have to? Fear it, that is?” Leia smoothed a lock of hair from Ransolm's eyes. “Is it possible to view this as an opportunity? Not that you were consulted, though technically you were very much _involved,_” she reminded him pointedly. “Like it or not, your son is the first of his kind. He’s a living, breathing bridge between two civilizations.__

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_ __ _

Did you expect the Chiss to vanish into Wild Space, never to be heard from again? Besides, you could take their personal interest in you as a compliment.” Leia gave him a cheeky wink when he scowled. “I’m not sure how your son’s existence compromises your position, Ransolm. You’ve already made the issue public—pardon the pun. You still haven’t told me his name." 

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Aren,” he said quietly. 

“For your father.” Leia sighed and gave his hand a squeeze. “But you still haven’t seen him—let alone held him."

“No,” he looked away. “And now they tell me he’s a skywalker. Male Force-sensitives are nearly unheard-of among the Chiss. It’s a closely guarded secret, but their survival depends on their Force-sensitive navigators. He’ll be trained to guide their ships, he has a duty—“

“As do you. To him. And to yourself, “ said Leia firmly. She rested her forehead against his. “Your feelings don’t come with an off switch, Ransolm Casterfo-- they never did. Do you remember the last thing you ever said to me?”

“Love is a better teacher than duty,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Entirely different context, but—“

A fingertip pressed to his lips silenced Ransolm. “You know exactly why you would have left this all behind. You don’t have to. Duty doesn’t mean denying yourself comfort—or love. If you have the chance for happiness? Your duty is to grab it with both hands and never let go.” 

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Love is a better teacher than duty.”
> 
> ~Albert Einstein


	31. Chapter 31

+

Leia’s form rippled, leaving Ransolm face to face with a Leia he'd never seen—not with his own eyes. Young, impossibly beautiful; even more beautiful than she'd always been, to him.

He gave a sharp intake of breath as _this_ Leia trailed a fingertip along his jawline, down along the length of his throat and beneath his unbuttoned shirt; part of him was about to die then and there. The heady, spicy fragrance of Chinar blossoms enveloped him as Leia's heavy braid bumped his chest. She leaned forward to kiss him full on the mouth.__

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_ __ _

Ran froze.

Leia gave a soft laugh. "Don't overthink it. My concept of time is different than yours now."

Ransolm swallowed, hard. How did Captain Solo not figure into this equation? He wasn't sure it was possible; he wasn't sure _any_ of this was possible.__

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_ __ _

"You're -- you're wearing a collar," he choked. He'd seen the princess like this once, in a holo she'd shown him herself. Jabba should have known better than to force that on her; no wonder she'd strangled him.

"The collar stays.” Mischief danced in Leia’s eyes. “But nothing else has to." Her mouth curved into a wicked grin as the metal of what little accompanied it clinked against the surface of his desk.

Ran flushed scarlet. "This is an office," he sputtered. "Reserved for senatorial business. The highest office in --"

"I like it," smirked Leia, leaning forward again. This time, his hands found her smooth, supple skin, his thumbs tracing the outline of her ribcage. The metal she wore was warm from the heat of her --

Ran forced himself to open his eyes. "How can this be?”

Leia arched a brow. "Sometimes, timing is everything."

"Am I dreaming this? All of it?”

Leia’s questing hands forced the rest of the blood from his brain as she slid into his lap.

"Suit yourself.”

+

"Good morning, Your Excellency!" exclaimed Threepio brightly. His golden plating positively gleamed, no doubt fresh from an oil bath in honour of the occasion. 

"That it is, Threepio," smiled Ran, checking his chrono. It was no surprise the droid was precisely on schedule. He frowned at his rather ostentatious timepiece, wishing he had another option. This one was a gift from Arkanis and a bit much.

"A momentous day in galactic history!" Threepio proclaimed, to his audience of one - the one about to take the podium. 

It occurred to Ran that Leia's protocol unit had more Senate experience than just about anyone alive or functioning. He smiled to himself again, imagining Threepio left to his own devices and talking as long as he wanted to in front of a captive Senate audience.

"Threepio, do you still have that recording of Leia and I?"

"Of your one and only joint address to the Galactic Republic?"

"The very one."

Threepio obliged, and soon a much younger Leia and Ransolm were hovering in the air between them.

_"One mission is not enough!"_ So strange, to see himself as he'd been then, though he was dressed much the same today. His elegant black shirt and cloak contrasted with Leia's ice-blue robes, as if they were mirrors and opposites of each other. He still recalled how dizzying it had felt to speak before a sea of thousands. Leia had been so impressively calm. She’d begun, and she'd given him the chance to conclude their address.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

It was time to stand alone now, even if it wasn’t in spirit. He pulled Leia's Pathfinding dagger from his desk drawer and made his way to the Chamber. 

Ransolm wore the dagger as he took his oath of office; he wore it in the years to come, whenever he had something of great importance to speak of, or when the path forward did not at first seem clear.

Seven hundred years later, Galactic Prime Senators would maintain that unofficial tradition. By then, the origins of the so-called 'secret dagger' were completely lost to time.

+

Thousands of beings filled the new Galactic Senate, a vast chamber of crystalline reds and pinks. Sunlight streamed through the enormous cut-glass window overhead, the symbol of the starbird sending rainbows of colour against sparkling walls. At the heart of the chamber, hovering in a shaft of light, the galaxy’s first Prime Senator was a striking figure all in black. The sun caught his face just so -- a light that gilded sandy hair.

Ransolm Casterfo was a natural orator and gave what many called the speech of his life that day. Decades later, it was still regarded as one of his finest. 

Odd, that he’d been slightly off centre in his hexagonal hoverpod, almost as though someone else stood with him.

+

Suralinda loved parties. "Tonight should be fun," she reminded Ransolm, who stood in front of his dressing room mirror applying some sort of product to that wonderful hair. He’d dressed in a flash.

Unlike last night's official reception, tonight was more of a party; everyone was in the mood to celebrate. Why shouldn't they be? The Galactic Alliance was official. There wouldn't be too karking many speeches; dinner and dancing were the focus. That, and a bit of entertainment—she’d seen to every last detail.

Casterfo was in for a surprise that was bound to agree with him. Sura had fifty credits riding on his reaction, even if she wasn't sure she ought to be betting against the likes of Charth Brethen. Staunchly independent Ryloth had surprised everyone by joining the Galactic Alliance. Ryloth’s first-ever galactic Senator had insight into the ultra-private Casterfo that even Sura lacked.

"Agreed." 

The corner of Ran's mouth twitched. Had that frowny face of his almost cracked a smile? Then he adjusted his cufflinks; fancy-pants had a thing for cufflinks. 

A burst of laughter from beyond the closed door of the dressing room was enough to signal that Poe and Finn Dameron had shown up in Ransolm’s inner office. "You weren't the last one to your own party after all," commented Sura. 

Ransolm had been uncharacteristically late arriving back from wherever he'd disappeared to this afternoon—so late, that most of his guests had beaten him here. He’d dashed into the fresher after greeting them briefly, leaving Sura to play hostess until he was halfway decent. At that point he’d commed her to enter the dressing room so she could read him the briefing notes she’d prepared; he knew she was immune to the sight of him half-clothed. 

Yama Dex would have turned as red as her hair. Crazy young for a Senate aide, she'd been flawless last night, even if she was years younger than most of the interns. Poor kid had a massive crush on her boss. Fortunately, Casterfo was the last man who’d abuse that. 

"Those designers you've mentioned, Sura - any chance they're available next week? It's ridiculous that I have nowhere to entertain." 

That had only occurred to him _now?___

\+ 

Senate offices were reserved for Senate business, but tonight was an exception Ransolm could justify.

The Galactic Alliance Senate wouldn't exist without the heart of the Resistance, the people gathered here, for a brief warm-up party before celebrating along with everyone else. He hadn't seen most of them in quite some time, not since the end of the Grysk War. He’d thrown himself into building the new Alliance the moment that conflict ended, and the election campaign had come hard on its heels. 

He found he was looking forward to this evening.Tar was out there, likely with his boots on the desk, and Maz had almost certainly found the cognac by now—after rifling through his desk drawers on the pretense of testing Senate security.

Ransolm smoothed his shirt one last time, fiddling with his cuffs absentmindedly. There was one face he missed without having to look for it. So strange, that he hadn't heard from Hevasi. Upsetting, actually. Charth had been somewhat evasive when he’d asked about her; Vasi was still in close contact with Charth’s children. Perhaps she had a lover—such distractions were known to alter one’s behaviour.

"I'll check your schedule." 

What was Sura talking about? Ah, yes. Those designers she was forever badgering him about. "Excellent." 

Sura frowned, wondering why Ransolm's expression had grown so wistful when he'd seemed almost happy a moment earlier.

+

Ransolm stepped through the door. He was wrong about the boots, but right about who occupied his desk chair. Rose waved to Ransolm from Tar's lap as the room burst into spontaneous applause.

"Here’s to our rather late Prime Senator!" Maz called out. "About time you showed up; worth the wait. Looking handsome, Ransolm," she teased, playfully blowing him a kiss. Ransolm shook his head, grinning as he headed over to the oldest person in the room to dutifully buss her cheek. 

Maz grabbed firm hold of his face. Those eyes," she said softly, peering into them. "I was right about you.” She let go of him before stepping back. “And you, Dameron!" she turned, saying the last loudly enough for everyone’s benefit. That prompted Poe to get to his feet and make a toast to their host--even if Ransolm was appallingly late.

Poe’s words left him moved.

But then Chewie was clapping him on the back, exclaiming over the view from his office and how excellent the food was -- there was actually some left, even though somebody had shooed away the serving droids.

Rey was here, smiling serenely before embracing him. That never failed to give Ransolm shivers because he understood he was embracing Leia's son at the same time. Knowing Ben Solo lived on in such fashion was unnerving, and far from common knowledge.

Kay and Beaumont were here too, as were Artoo and Threepio. BB-8 was making himself useful by delivering beverages to everyone—trust Lando to be playing host in his absence, pouring the drinks BB-8 was serving. Jannah was here as Calrissian’s plus-one, though Chewie rumbled that having a blood relative act as Lando Calrissian’s date for anything had to rank as a galactic first.

Charth held back until Ran finished greeting the others. Smiling wryly, he clinked his glass against the one he handed his friend. A celebrated war hero thanks to his role in the Grysk conflict, Charth had just been elected to the Senate’s Executive Council. He and Ransolm would be working closely for the next four years. 

Ran smiled at Vi Moradi’s approach, making a great show of kissing her hand. That always made her laugh, or at least roll her eyes. Vi was employed in a highly classified capacity as part of Alliance Intelligence. Her brother Baako was a Senator now. The siblings were known to be close, which meant there was ample cover for her frequent visits to Crait. 

"Do I recognize this painting?" Ransolm turned at the sound of Tar’s voice. Finn and Kaydel were also admiring the canvas taking pride of place behind Ransolm’s desk.

"Good eye, Tar," Ran chuckled. “You do. It looks a lot better without Carise in front of it.” The other stolen works Carise and the First Order hoarded on Arkanis had been returned to their homeworlds of origin, a project Beaumont Kin had taken on before returning to his position at the University. 

Most of those works had been promptly re-donated to the new Galactic Gallery here on Crait, once plans for it were announced. This painting was a notable exception.

Records indicated it had once hung in Leia’s stateroom aboard_ Tantive IV. _ It hadn’t been offered to the Alderaanian diaspora, though it had originally been property of the House of Organa and had a certain amount of historical significance. It, and five other paintings—one from each of the five lost Hosnian worlds—adorned the walls of the Prime Senator's inner office, serving as a permanent reminder of what could be destroyed if government failed its citizens.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

A rude whistle interrupted Ran’s train of thought. Threepio rapped Artoo smartly on his domed head a second time. "Nonsense! How should I know where I've seen this painting before?" 

A series of beeps and whistles meant Artoo begged to differ.

"You _did_ back up my memory; are your circuits fried _now_ on account of it?" ____

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

More beeps.

"What do you meant, you didn’t back it up the first time? How many memory wipes have I been subjected to? I'm not the one who’s obsolete or malfunctioning; I can’t say the same of you! Go and get your circuitry checked; how should I know Bail Organa’s taste in art!"

For some odd reason, Chewbacca guffawed. He shrugged and crossed his arms behind his head when Poe shot him a look. 

"Bail Organa—say, whatever happened to that pin?” Finn had given it to Ransolm the morning after his rescue from Corellia. 

Ransolm extended his hand in Finn’s direction, showing him the chalcedony signet he was never without. 

“Good thinking, turning it into a ring; harder to lose that way. Looks just like the Senate window and the mosaic in the centre of the reflecting pool.” 

“Coincidence?” The corner of Ran’s mouth twitched and his eyes almost twinkled.

”Apparently not,” laughed Finn.

“That’s quite the timepiece, Casterfo.” Lando Calrissian had flashier taste than Ransolm. 

“It was a gift, and far heavier than I care for.” Not to mention too ornate, but there was no question as to its quality; trust the Baron to notice it. “Truth be told, I’d give it to you. Only that might offend Arkanis.”

”Unless you were to auction it for charity, say,” suggested Lando. “Making sure I was given the opportunity to bid. Arkanis would be flattered, and I would get a bespoke chrono I like the look of,” said Lando smoothly. Not many would be able to match a bid by Calrissian; not since he’d re-established Calrissian Enterprises.

Tar voiced his enthusiasm for the idea.

“Not your charity,” said Ransolm drily. “Yours is entirely too well-funded to qualify.” Tar enjoyed lucrative compensation for reclaiming his position atop the world of grav-ball. He’d founded a literacy programme for children and ran camps for underprivileged youth on the ranch he and Rose owned. 

Rose’s breaks from teaching advanced hyperspace tracking didn’t coincide with Tar’s off-season. Retired racing Fathiers and underprivileged kids were a match made in heaven, and stars only knew that Tar was forever looking for ways to occupy himself.

”Those—they’re new.” Sura had just noticed Ransolm’s new cufflinks. 

”They kohlen crystal, sometimes mistaken for kyber. A gift from the Chiss.”

The room quieted. Everyone here knew that relations between Ransolm and the Chiss were less than ideal. 

Sura felt the tension and tried to cut it. “I get it—all red and glowy, kind of like their eyes.” Like his son’s might be? Sura had never seen a Chiss in person before Thrawn had appeared at last night’s reception; next to no one had. 

“True, but my son’s eyes are blue.”

It was the first time he’d spoken of the boy— ever.

Sura caught the subtle glance that Rey exchanged with Ransolm. She caught another one too, between Charth and Tar.

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “One mission is not enough.”
> 
> Ransolm’s voice rang out in the Senate as he stood at his console. For this speech, he was not alone. Princess Leia stood as well, with the holos and cams synced to show them standing together, even though they were separated by nearly the breadth of the enormous Senate chamber. They faced in opposite directions, so at least one of them would appear to be directly addressing half the room. His elegant black shirt and cloak contrasted with her ice-blue robes, as if they were both mirrors and opposites of each other.
> 
> ~Claudia Gray, p. 93, ‘Bloodline’.
> 
> ‘She had begun their address and given him the chance to conclude it.’
> 
> ~p. 95, ‘Bloodline’
> 
> Here’s hoping they let Claudia loose to write us another tale of Ransolm Casterfo. (In my wildest, happiest SW dreams he turns up in a spy series... but that’s wishful thinking.)
> 
> Stay safe out there, everyone.
> 
> +


	32. Surprises

+

"Will that become a problem?" Kuula Teda studied Ransolm over the rim of her wineglass as he glad-handed his way through the inevitable throng. The evening was in full swing. A jizz band playing in the style of Figrin D’an and the Modal Nodes reflected her exceptionally good mood.

"He won't let it, neither will I, and the girl has too much sense. It's a harmless infatuation," the watchful Sura Javos assured her. Young Yama Dex was at Ransolm's elbow, discreetly whispering prompts into his ear. The galactic Prime Senator's attention was entirely on the beings he was speaking to, and Yama's surprisingly starry-eyed gaze was just as firmly fixed on her boss. 

That was her job, of course; to prompt him with names and pertinent details to complement his already excellent memory. Only a protocol droid could have outdone Yama, but Ransolm preferred to go without Threepio in more social settings.

"Girl's too sharp for formal secondary schooling and doesn't care to go to uni, despite the special dispensation Beaumont Kin arranged for her. Do I understand correctly?" Kuula was intrigued by the red-headed girl. According to Ransolm, her temperament and wartime experience in intelligence - a role he did not clarify, even when pressed - made Yama ideally suited to work as his aide.

"She tells me her future plans include entering galactic politics, with the aim of representing Corellia,” Sura explained to the senator. “She ought to get a degree, but she doesn’t see the point. Ransolm thinks her refusal is based on having to accept financial aid. She qualifies for it. In the meantime, he’s paying her enough that she'll easily be able to afford schooling out of pocket if she changes her mind. She’s all of seventeen. That's plenty of time to consider her options.”

Senator Teda nodded, thoughtful. From the corner of her eye she caught Poe Dameron inching ever closer and doing an admirable job of pretending not to eavesdrop on their conversation. Kuula pitched her voice just loud enough for the most senior naval officer in the room to overhear: "Any man who looks like _that_ in a suit has no business being single." __

_ _ That would let the dishy admiral would know they weren't discussing him, or anything else he might find interesting. Dameron was decked out in full dress uniform, a treat several beings were openly feasting their eyes on. Sure enough, Dameron immediately turned his attention to someone else._ _

_ __ _

"Or miserable," Sura agreed, following the thread of their original conversation. Her gaze followed Ransolm, who looked especially sharp in a suit and spavat. "Some would say he has it all---especially now." Sura took a sip of her gold-and- purple- flecked cockail, taking a moment to appreciate the skills of the bartending team she'd hired direct from Canto Bight.

"_Some_ would be fools," Kuula Teda scoffed. "A life of public service demands tremendous personal sacrifice - if lived properly. Which you and I both know _that_ man will." She pursed her lips and sighed. "A shame he doesn't have what his parents did."____

__

_ __ _

_ __ _

"You knew them?" That possibility had never occurred to Suralinda.

"I remember them," said Kuula, patting Sura’s blue arm. Her gaze grew distant. "More than Ransolm does, at least. I babysat for the Casterfos - before the dark times.” It took effort for Kuula to shove those bleak memories away, to be reminded what had become of her own parents, and Ransolm's. 

"They didn't care to rely solely on their nanny droid. They wanted their boy to have fun when they went out. A lovely couple - beautiful, and so very, very happy , or so it seemed to me. I sometimes showed up early. That meant I caught them dancing in the kitchen more than once." 

Kuula smiled at the recollection. As a friend of the family, she'd always entered by the side door that led to the kitchen, never through the grand main entrance. "Little Ransolm would always be laughing his head off, doing his best to imitate them. Twelve-year-old me thought the Casterfos terribly romantic." 

An older Kuula thought it sad how little Ransolm laughed now.

She smiled conspiratorially at Sura though, because the admirable admiral was eavesdropping again. That prompted Kuula to raise her voice : "I'll have you know that our Prime Senator was quite the dancer at all of two years old - even if he _did_ have an unfortunate tendency to run around naked."__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Poe sputtered wine all over the front of his pristine white dress uniform. Suralinda snorted.

"How fortunate that wasn't red wine, Admiral Dameron, and how lovely to see you again," Kuula deadpanned, offering Poe her hand as he dutifully greeted her. She did think it lovely, but she didn't want to speak to him now.

Dameron smiled weakly between Kuula and Suralinda before escaping in the direction of Charth Brethen. Kuula glanced Charth’s way before turning back to Sura. “I gather there's a _very_ quiet bet riding on Ransolm's reaction to tonight's entertainment, and only because the other party told me.”__

_ __ _

_ __ _

"Charth says I'm matchmaking."

"I'll wager this 'matchmaking' wasn't solely your idea."

"You'd be right." Charth had consulted Tar, who’d long held theories about who didn’t really belong in what he called Ransolm's ‘friend zone.’

Kuula quirked an amused brow. "What's the harm in poking at embers? It’s fun to see what might flare up. You're not _matchmaking_, my dear.“ She patted Sura's arm again. "You're reuniting old friends, not old flames." Not that a little bit of drama ever hurt.__

_ _ She craned her neck to get a better look at Ransolm. It seemed to Kuula he was moving rather purposefully toward the room's entrance - odd, because everyone of note was most certainly here. She murmured a final comment to Suralinda before the others joined them. __

__ "If lightning strikes, it wouldn't do our Ransolm any harm. Especially not after the stunt that Chiss witch pulled with the child." She clinked her glass against Sura's, fingers mentally crossed._ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

+

A change in the room had the Senator of Riosa zeroing in on the source of the buzz. It was definitely coming from over near the entrance. Kuula’s eyes widened before narrowing again. "Not the lightning I had in mind," she said tightly.

"It that who I think it is?" inquired Rose Tico, who'd just shown up with Tar in tow. 

"One mystery laid to rest," murmured Senator Charth Brethen. He excused himself as quickly as he'd materialized and headed for the knot of people clustered around the pair of tall Chiss who'd just arrived. They stood out, red eyes glowing. To most people, they were something out of stories.

"Karking hells, look who's here," muttered Suralinda under her breath — and not because her seating arrangement would be shot to hells if these two stayed for dinner. This was _not_ going according to plan. __

_ _ Ransolm was smiling and shaking hands with former Imperial Grand Admiral Thrawn, bane of existence to half the room --until he'd led the Chiss efforts to eliminate the Grysk threat. He'd proven himself a worthy ally to the nascent Galactic Alliance. That was all well and fine - certainly much better than last night.__

_ __ _

__Thrawn drew plenty of attention but the room was abuzz for another reason: Casterfo’s arm was clearly around a tall, stunning Chiss female’s waist.You didn’t need a degree in advanced hyperspace tracking to figure out who she had to be. __

__ As tall as Ransolm, her glossy, blue-black hair was piled high atop her head, leaving the open back of her simple white gown entirely bare -- of everything but the Prime Senator’s ungloved hand. _  
_

_ __ _

_ __ _

What. The. Hells. Ransolm definitely wasn't glaring daggers at her, nor was he coldly formal with Thrawn like he’d been last night. No--he and the statuesque Chiss poured into that striking gown were posing for the holodroids now. Sura knew her nostrils were flaring, and it wasn't because Ransolm had done without PR advice. 

"Pfassking hells, is that Commander _Sinine?_ " A purely rhetorical question from Admiral Dameron, even if the Chiss warrior looked shockingly different out of uniform. Poe nudged Finn with an elbow. His husband was just as surprised. __

_ _ Charth and Tar must have also recognized Sinine, or else decided to run potential interference based on last night’s near-slight of Thrawn. They were already threading their way through the crush toward Casterfo, the pair of Chiss, and...Rey? _ _

_ _ Rey was definitely part of whatever was going on near the doorway. Smiling serenely, she was deep in conversation with the formidable Thrawn. Like the Chiss, Rey was all in white. __

_ _ Strangely enough a tiny green alien Poe recognized hovered on a platform level with Rey's elbow. He gestured with his hands as he spoke with the female Chiss, who appeared to be listening intently. Those big green ears of his were even bigger than his hands._ _

__ Hoverplatforms allowed shorter beings to avoid being stepped on in crowds, and this alien was shorter than most. Poe glanced at Finn, who gave his head a slight shake. He didn’t know what to make of green guy’s presence either._ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

"Careful Sura, your fangs are showing," warned Poe, looping her arm through his in an effort to keep the Prime Senator's Chief of Staff from half-charging through the crowd toward Casterfo and the Chiss. Sura looked fit to spit - venom, that was. 

+

By the time Sura reached her target, Senator Kuula Teda of Riosa was already smiling pleasantly at it, probably contemplating how best to skewer those glowing red eyeballs with the nearest vibroknife and shove them up Sinine's blue Chiss nostrils. Kuula appeared surprisingly taken aback by how warmly Ransolm introduced her to his unexpected guests.

"Play nice, Sura," whispered Poe, when their turn came. "This is how it's done." In public. Leia had taught him that much.

"Admiral Dameron, you need no introduction." Sinine graciously extended a hand. She'd always been impeccably polite.

Poe remembered that low voice, even if he'd only heard it over a monitor. Did Sinine realize Sura was in serious danger of flaying her alive, fellow blue-skinned humanoid or not? He tightened his grip on Sura’s arm a fraction, mentally willing her to keep her mouth shut and her venom under control. This wasn't Black Squadron; she was supposed to _act_ like a diplomat.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

"Commander," Poe inclined his head. Commander Sinine was nothing less than a brilliant military tactician. He'd hate to have her as an adversary.

_ __ _

_ __ _

"Admiral," she smoothly corrected him. 

Casterfo jumped in with a comment of his own. "It seems both of you were honoured by promotions for your efforts in defeating the Grysk, and rightly so." He smiled at both Admirals, his eyes asking Sura to behave herself. Suralinda wondered what in hells was going on.

+

"I have spoken.” The diminutive green alien held a finger in the air as he made that cheerful pronouncement. Then he tapped his three-toed foot in time to the lively jizz music as everyone else looked around at each other.

Sinine turned to Ransolm. "Is this your wish?" It was an interesting arrangement, to be sure.

"It is."

After a moment Sinine nodded, returning her attention to the alien she kept calling ‘Master Sky Walker.’ As far as Sura knew, that was not little green guy’s name. "So be it,” Sinine declared. “We depart at dawn."

The big-eared green alien gestured to the bar. "Can I offer you a libation, to celebrate the beginning of our shared narrative?" He gave Sinine a thoroughly disarming and surprisingly gap-toothed grin. 

Where had Rey found him? Sura wished she could recall. And why did Rey and Ransolm keep calling him "Master Sky Walker"? Why, for that matter, did it look like his front teeth had yet to grow in? He looked too young for alcohol, never mind a lengthy assignment to the Unknown Regions. But species aged differently, her own included, and she'd already gathered he was well more than fifty years old. Sura contented herself with waiting for further details.

Sinine addressed the green one's offer of refreshment. "I appreciate the invitation, Master Sky Walker. But I think it wiser to further discuss our arrangements elsewhere, perhaps in the comfort of our vessel.”

The little fellow brightened at once. "I would like to see the baby." Wait, the baby was here on Crait? Right now?

"Ransolm?" Sinine sought his input again.

Ransolm nodded, hands folded behind his back. "Agreed. And I thank you for gracing us with your presence this evening, however briefly." He bent and pressed a kiss to Sinine's hand.

"You honour me, Prime Senator," she said softly. "Once again, heartfelt congratulations on your election."

Politely acknowledging the others, Sinine departed at once, with the diminutive 'Master Sky Walker' hovering at her elbow.

Thrawn left shortly afterward.

+

"You've outdone yourself tonight, Sura," smiled Ransolm to his Chief of Staff as the serving droids whisked away the empty dessert plates. Sura was looking forward to taking her place at a neighbouring table beside Jess, who'd just blown her a kiss from her seat next to Karé and Wedge. "Dinner was superlative. You never did mention what you've arranged for the rest of this evening's entertainment."

"It's short and sweet, believe me. Just the ticket before we get to the dancing," winked Sura, heading to her seat before Ransolm had a chance to press her for details. Maybe - just maybe- Charth and Tar’s hunch would prove correct, never mind Chiss party-crashers who had no intention of sticking around _this_ galaxy anytime soon.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

A stage rose from the heart of the dance floor just metres away as if Sura’s thoughts had cued it. In reality she’d keyed a command to the stage manager with her discreet wrist comm. It was definitely time for entertainment. 

+

Ran's breath caught when the lone figure stepped into the spotlight. The room erupted in applause, for Hevasi Joy was instantly recognizable. A vision in a gorgeous gown of the palest blue, her dark skin and beautiful figure were set off to perfection. Her rich, auburn hair had grown in again and was styled in a way that reminded Ransolm of the starlets from the classic holodramas his foster mother had always been fond of.

She took his breath away before she'd sung a single note.

She was here after all, of course she was; here and smiling and radiant. And when the opening bars of a melody everyone knew filled the air - a song that inspired, united - he screwed his eyes shut to force back unexpected tears. 

How he'd missed her- but she was here, now, singing her heart out, and Ran’s face was in danger of cracking to pieces he was smiling so hard. 

Vasi lifted her arms, inviting the crowd to join in when she reached the chorus. Of course they knew the words; not many didn’t. But few could conceive of what Hevasi Joy had suffered at the hands of the First Order. 

Ransolm did, or most of it. She'd told him as much as he'd ever told her.

"_Eleven of us, eleven engines to power a Corellian corvette. Eleven of us to power the Resistance."_ One of 'Captain Tar's' motivational speeches, often given in the dead of night when they'd been at their lowest. None of them would have made it alone. He'd made sure Vasi wasn't, and she'd done the same for him - before Cerea. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

Stars but she was breathtaking; so very beautiful. He'd always known that on some level - he'd hardly be a man if he didn't notice. But that felt like another lifetime. 

Everyone was on their feet by now, or very nearly, with Ransolm applauding as heartily as anyone - impossible not to do; the lyrics alluded the triumph of hope over darkness, to forging something new. 

No sooner had the thunderous ovation begun to die down than most of the stage sank into the dance floor, taking the bowing band with it. Hevasi Joy was alone in the light with nothing but a gleaming grand piano, and as her fingers touched the keys, Ran immediately recognized a melody Vasi had never recorded, never once performed--

Yet Ransolm knew it--every note. He’d first heard it in an unlit hangar bay as he'd lain on his back, drowning in doubt and uncertainty. He’d heard it later too, whenever Vasi hummed or sang snippets of it under her breath, sometimes as she trained, sometimes at four in the morning, when both of them were wide awake from the nightmares the First Order had given them. 

Right here, right now, Ransolm understood that this song was for him, and him alone. He nearly shook with emotion at that realization. 

The lyrics washed over him; he'd never heard all of them before. He was dimly aware that his tablemates were enthralled, that they hung on every note that Vasi sang. Beside him, Kuula Teda wiped tears from the corners of her eyes and smiled up at her husband. 

It may have touched others, but this song was for him, straight from Vasi's heart. Something fragile and half-remembered unfurled in his own. 

The intensely private Ransolm Casterfo then proceeded to make the most public gesture of his life. He rose, striding across the floor without hesitation until he reached the edge of the stage. He timed it perfectly, for Hevasi Joy had just risen from behind the piano in time to take her bows. 

His breath caught when their eyes met - so did hers. When Ransolm reached up with both hands, a beaming Hevasi Joy stepped lightly off the stage and into his waiting arms.

She buried her face in his shoulder as he swung her around. Hevasi's arms slipped from around Ransolm’s neck just as the whole stage vanished into the dance floor and someone cued the orchestra in the gallery overhead.

"Shall we?" Ransolm's smile could have chased away thunderclouds.

There was nothing for it but to dance. 

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +
> 
> ‘Baby Yoda’s’ lines are taken from 'The Mandalorian', only because it was fun to imagine him using snippets of dialogue he's overheard in the series. :D


	33. Chapter 33

“Human babies don't do this at your age," grinned Ransolm. "I have that on good authority." He was by no means an expert on such matters but found it impressive how easily Mitth'aren'casterfo navigated the perimeter of the reflecting pool in the Senate square, even letting go of the ledge from time to time.

Dawn had just broken, and Crait's sun smiled on Ransolm and his own small son. The two were enjoying their first moments alone before four-month-old Aren departed for Chiss space.

"I met one just the other day, I'll have you know." A human baby, that was. This conversation was a trifle one-sided, unless one counted gurgles and facial expressions. "Temmin Wexley by name. More than twice your age, born nine months after the Battle of Exegol."

His baby--toddler? he was definitely toddling, despite his age--cooed, splashing a chubby hand into the still water of the reflecting pool, sending little ripples in every direction.

"Temmin’s father was lost at Exegol. We owe him something of a debt, you and I. Truth be told, there's a good chance we wouldn't be alive without him."

A second hand joined the first; this splashing was apparently serious business.

"He helped rescue me from prison on Corellia. Found the ship we escaped in, actually." Ransolm snapped his fingers, prompting Aren to stop his splashing and stare, transfixed, at his father's left hand. Ransolm sat down on the ledge as the baby grabbed for it, balancing himself against his father’s knee.

"Snap, he was called. Big heart, big laugh, played the valochord. I do too," Ransolm leaned forward to confide. "Not especially well. I'm much better at the klavier. Or was -- some people call it a piano. It wouldn't do you harm to learn to play. When you're older."

The corner of his mouth twitched, because Aren was furrowing his brown and earnestly making snapping motions with his fingers.

"I think they need to be a little stronger," smiled Ran. Did Chiss snap their fingers? Their culture struck him as strict and severe. Yet Thrawn and Sinine appreciated art, and not just for the insight it gave them into the cultures of their adversaries. Surely music was part of Chiss life? He sighed to himself, which had Aren tilting his head and frowning. Perhaps because he was frowning - he'd best make an effort not frown so often.

"Your mother and I are friends again, as you've seen by now." Ran trailed his long fingers in the still water of the reflecting pool. His son followed suit, until it became much more rewarding to splash again. He soaked his father thoroughly enough that Ransolm had to roll his sleeve up. 

"I apologize for any shouting you may have overheard these past few weeks. I was very upset - not that you exist; never that. But that no one told me as much until recently."

The child frowned. Ransolm did the same. When he'd inadvertently discovered the most closely-guarded secret of Chiss spacefaring, he hadn't known he'd signed his own death warrant. 

Ally or not, the Ascendancy had wanted him silenced. Unbeknownst to him, Sinine had not agreed, and her unorthodox attempt to save his life had been to ensure that their brief relationship resulted in a pregnancy. She and Thrawn had taken on the ruling families on his behalf, playing up the strategic advantage the revised situation presented.

"You saved my life, Aren," said Ransolm softly. "You and your mother, who risked shaming herself had the Ascendancy not come to agree with her. I knew better than to reveal what I'd learned; now I'd die to make sure of it. I’m in on the secret in a very big way, wouldn’t you say?"

The child reached for the signet on Ransolm's left hand, babbling what sounded like a long string of nonsense. Ran told himself he'd have to learn Sy Bisti; Cheunh language modules weren't available and he only knew a few phrases. By contrast, many Chiss had a decent grasp of galactic Basic. Aren kept his eyes fastened on the ring.

Ran slipped it off. "You're not going to put that in your mouth are you?" The Wexley baby was constantly mouthing things. Was that even hygienic?

But his small son did no such thing, furrowing his brow as he turned the silvery signet this way and that. Then he dropped it into the water, craning his neck to watch as it sank to the bottom of the pool. He clapped his hands, chortling and pointing between it and the emblem at the centre of the pool.

"Yes." Ran's eyebrows flew up in surprise. He pushed his sleeve up a little further and fished out the ring. Fortunately, the water was relatively shallow. "Aren't you clever! You’re right, it’s the same symbol. Believe me, that’s not a coincidence." He handed the ring back to the grinning boy. "Don't put it in your mouth - especially not now that it's been in the water," he advised, just a little sternly.

The child put in on his tiny thumb instead.

"Princess Leia gave that to me. She was the most remarkable person I’ve ever known. How I wish you’d met her.” At that, Ransolm leaned over and kissed the boy’s hair, surprised to find it downy soft. 

He gestured back to the ring. “The starbird at the heart was originally a pin. The Viceroy of Alderaan dropped that pin right here on Crait, years and years ago. His name was Bail Organa, and he founded the Rebel Alliance that brought down the Galactic Empire. A brave man named Finn found it; he was once a Stormtrooper. He helped lead the Resistance that toppled the First and Final Orders. How's that for a story?" Or maybe a history lesson. 

It didn't appear to interest his audience. Aren had no grasp of Basic anyway.

"Mine," smiled Ransolm, opening his palm. Best to start simple. His son took the hint and passed the ring back to Ransolm, gurgling and smiling a gap-toothed grin.

"How many teeth do you have?" Ransolm furrowed his brow, fairly certain human babies didn't have quite that many at four months old. "Teeth," he repeated, opening his mouth and pointing to his own. That won him a laugh, along with what sounded like a clear attempt at saying 'teeth'.

Aren seemed to like shiny things, because Ran's new chrono was his next target.

"Chrono," said Ransolm, pleased when the child said it back. The 'ch' wasn't clear but the attempt certainly was. "It's a gift, from someone very special. Her name is Vasi." Chalcedony and platinum, the chrono was understated and elegant, besides being outrageously expensive.

"Mitth'aren'casterfo,” smiled Ransolm. “I'm glad we've settled on one name. You were going to be Aren Casterfo here, and something entirely unpronounceable everywhere else. Most people have one name-- unless they're spies," he said wryly.

The child tilted his head. Ran took that as his cue to keep talking; it seemed to him the little one didn't mind the sound of his voice. "I was a spy for most of the war. Not the Grysk War, the one before it. Not something I'd recommend, by the way, though it's sometimes unavoidable," advised Ran. "Most spies end up dead - or worse," he muttered, mostly to himself.

"You'll meet Vi one of these days." The child splashed a hand in the water again. "Her brother is a senator now. Vi was Leia's best spy. I was more of an emissary, for the most part." Both chubby hands splashed at the water, and Ransolm resolved to arrange a trip to the seaside for Aren. "I expect Vi will want to knit you a hat - or something - when she learns how cold Csilla is. How cold is it, anyway?” Ran asked, not really expecting an answer. Too cold for sandy beaches, that much he knew.

The child stopped splashing and started moving, intent on continuing his march around the perimeter of the hexagonal reflecting pool. He picked up speed when he reached the fourth edge. Suddenly he shrieked, arms outstretched, and raced off at what surely amounted to warp speed for a toddler. Aren squealed in what sounded like delight when Ransolm caught him from behind and swung him high.

"You have no business doing that yet, young man!" laughed Ransolm. "You're absolutely terrifying! How fast are you going to develop? More like a Chiss than a human, it seems."

The boy threw back his head and laughed along with him.

"I know, I know. Why walk when you can run?" Ran set him on his feet again, keeping firm hold of his hand this time. "You like to go fast, do you?" Ran grinned. "We will, you and I. Bikes, speeders, starfighters - you name it. Fathiers even, on your uncle Tar's ranch." Which Ransolm had somehow never visited.

Ransolm smiled at the little blue fingers clutching his own; they were more of a silvery blue, really. 

”It just so happens that blue is my favourite colour,” he said softly. 

”Blue,” the child cooed back.

”Yes, blue. And I’ll see you in a few weeks. We’ll have a little holiday, you and I. It’s all arranged. And I’ll send you a message every single day, even if they won’t alway be live messages, on account of where you’ll be.” 

Aren was reaching for the water again, but Ransolm distracted him by pulling a silly face. The Wexley baby seemed to like those, not that Ransolm had made any for him. How remarkable that Aren wasn’t fussing for Sinine. Babies made him nervous in general - how amazing that his own didn’t.

”Come along, we’d best get you back to your mother.” The child held his arms up, indicating that he wanted to be picked up. “Up,” said Ransolm, scooping him off his feet in a way that had him laughing again.

”Up,” Aren repeated. 

”Aren’t you a clever one? I’m terribly biased, but there’s no help for it.” 

The child patted his cheeks, which were still unshaven this early in the morning. The party had gone quite late but the Chiss were about to leave, and Ransolm wouldn’t have missed this for anything.

Sinine waited at the edge of the deserted square, smiling approvingly. Ransolm embraced her, and for a moment the three of them had their heads together. He kissed his son on the forehead before doing the same to Sinine.

”Thank you, Sinine,” he whispered. “He’s remarkable. So are you.”

Sinine smiled. “Of course he is remarkable - and to think you never told me that you used to have white hair.” She seemed to find that amusing, which made no sense.

”What does that signify? Mine went white with shock. It’s quite recovered now.” Mostly. Except for a smattering of grey at the temples, but that was only to be expected. 

“Someday I shall explain—or perhaps Aren will.”

Ransolm did not understand Chiss humour, or even if this _was_ humour. __

“Force be with you both,’ he said softly instead, pressing his forehead to Aren’s now that the boy was back in his mother’s arms. 

“Mine,” said Aren, nearly poking Ransolm in the eye by mistake.

“Your eyes _are_ blue, not Chiss red,” agreed his father. But the boy grabbed Ransolm’s ears, then patted his cheeks. __

“Mine,” Aren repeated. 

Ran thought he understood this time. 

"Yes,” he replied. “I am.” 

_ __ _

_ __ _

+


	34. Chapter 34

"You're the first to have the grand tour," Ransolm smiled, keying the door open with a flourish.

"I can't believe it's taken you this long," laughed Hevasi, shaking her head as she stepped into his penthouse apartment. With the morning's tree-planting ceremony concluded, a celebratory brunch was next on the official agenda. Ransolm had brought her to his quarters for a few minutes of privacy. 

Vasi's heels tapped on unfinished duracrete as he guided her through the space, her fingers resting lightly on his arm. 

"I've only ever been here once," he confessed. His sheepish grin did nothing to disguise the twinkle in his eyes.

"_You_, Ransolm Casterfo, are hopeless." So were her chances of retaining the power of speech for much longer when his hand moved to the small of her back and he splayed his fingers over it. "Cooped up in your office when you could enjoy all this?” __

_ __ _

_ __ _

Ransolm ignored their surroundings. "_You've_ never been more beautiful.” His gaze was soft, his voice softer, and he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind Vasi’s ear. She gave a sharp intake of breath at the unexpected intimacy.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

A strong wind had sprung from nowhere in the middle of Ransolm’s tribute to Leia sending cloaks and robes swirling. Surely her hair was a mess? Stepping back, she unwound it, startling Ransolm by handing him her hairpins. Coiling her unruly locks back into a classic Naboo twist, she secured it with a grand total of six pins.

“Some things aren’t as complicated as they seem," she assured him with a smile.

Ransolm struck her as surprised. 

“Do you roll out of bed looking perfect, too?" His eyes held hers. 

Vasi flushed. "Do you?" She bit down on her bottom lip, realizing how that sounded. But she looped her arm through his again when he offered it, very aware of how firmly muscled it was beneath the fine fabric of his jacket.

She'd been in those arms, never the way she'd dreamt. They'd been painfully thin when he'd taught her how to defend herself - against any man but _him._ Two years had made Ransolm’s body fit and strong but hadn’t changed her feelings.__

Hevasi Joy had never met anyone like him.

"You’ve done yourself no favours by ignoring what’s meant as your home," she chided gently. 

"Guilty as charged," he chuckled. They'd come to a stop before the darkened, floor-to-ceiling viewport dominating the far wall of the main living area. Hevasi stepped away from him. She tapped the controls, clearing the view and sending sunlight streaming into the space between them.

"Imagine the possibilities," she said softly. 

Ransolm’s eyes locked on Vasi's. "I don't think I saw them before." His arm encircled her waist, and he drew her close, tilting her chin up with his free hand and brushing a sweet, achingly tender kiss to Hevasi's parted lips. 

When she opened her eyes, Ransolm's were smiling into hers, blue as the sea she'd always loved and crinkling at the corners.

"I didn't thank you properly for your gift,” he teased, not stepping away. “It's exquisite. I regret I have nothing for you in return." 

Stars above, she was still in his arms and it felt like heaven ought to. "You gave me more than you realize, Ransolm." Exactly when she'd needed it most.

He knew what she alluded to and searched her eyes, thoughtful. Then he stepped a familiar distance away and held up the wrist where he wore her gift. 

"I notice this has whisper capabilities." A feature found only on high-end chronos, whisper technology allowed for direct, private conversation between two parties - provided they were on the same planet.

"It seemed to me that a man in your position might find it useful."

Ransolm's eyes danced. "Indeed. Shall we put it to the test? Or does yours not have that feature?" He gestured to the slim chrono at Vasi's wrist, every bit as elegant as her impeccably tailored, cream-coloured suit.

Vasi’s heart leaped. "If you'd like. I'm not on Crait for long, of course - "

"All the more reason to take advantage of it now." There it was, that deadly dangerous smile. And that _voice.___

_ __ _

_ __ _

"Shall I assign you a codename?" Vasi waggled her eyebrows and grinned, trying to ignore what her insides were doing. "We can pretend we're secret ag-"

"Fulcrum." He said it without hesitation. His expression had lost all playfulness.

"An interesting choice," she said slowly. "But it suits you." She adjusted the setting on her chrono that would synch their devices as he'd suggested before meeting his eyes again. "You do shift things. Rather dramatically, I might add." 

Ransolm had gone quiet and watched her face carefully. 

“You’re the only one alive who knows me by that name now.” He touched his chrono to hers, knowing they were paired when both blinked.

Then he ran a hand through his tousled hair. “It was my code name. During the war. When I was Leia’s...emissary.” He turned away, gripping the railing. “Which sounds somewhat better than betrayer.”

A familiar lump rose in Vasi’s throat. Leia again - forever Leia. “I’m sorry you lost her, Ransolm.” His back was to her. “No one’s ever told me what actually happened. How she died.” She doubted he’d ever spoken what his heart must still be full of.

Ransolm shook his head, almost as if he were in denial. “It’s a miracle she lived and breathed as long as she did. Let’s leave it at that.”

Vasi made no reply.

“I lived for her for a time, you know that.”

”I think I did.”

When Ransolm turned to face her again, Hevasi was sure she didn’t want to hear what he was about to say. She glanced at the chrono on her wrist.

“It’s past time we return to the others.” The brightness in her voice was one she didn’t feel.

Her hopes had grown wings when he’d reached up for her last night; there’d been wings on her feet as they’d danced the night away. Her heart had soared when he’d _finally_ kissed her—__

_ __ _

_ __ _

But it was somehow never time for them at all.

+


	35. Chapter 35

But Ransolm surprised her. He declared himself impressed by the chrono’s sonic microbubble, which extended twenty-five centimetres beyond the device itself and allowed for private conversation in the middle of a crowd. The first time he tested it was on their way to brunch, his hand still at the small of Vasi’s back.

He experimented several times during brunch itself, his eyes sparkling with mischief whenever her wrist tingled. Toying with her left earring became Hevasi's excuse to keep her hand so close to her face. Ransolm carried on perfectly normal conversations with those seated near him all the while.

They went their separate ways after that but the contact carried on. 

After his seventeenth message from some official function or other—little nothings that felt like everything—she simply had to tease him. She'd been out to dinner with Rose and Tar, not sure if she was ready to let them know about any of this. “You may be abusing this technology, Ransolm!”

"That's exactly what it's for."

_ __ _

_ __ _

Vasi heard the smile in his voice. "Are you flirting, Prime Senator?"

"You know me so well."

Except she did and she didn't--not this new, playful Ransolm; who flirted constantly, teased differently. Force help her, Hevasi Joy was a lost cause. The little butterflies he'd revived inside her long ago were more alive than ever.

+

Her chrono shivered against her wrist as she waited in the wings. Far from the only performer at tonight's Senate gala concert, she was about to take the stage. "Where are you?" she murmured, twisting at her hair this time. Tonight it was a riot of corkscrew curls and more like itself than she normally wore it.

"Waiting for you." 

Vasi flushed at his tone. "I'm about to go on." She smoothed a nervous hand over her shimmering, figure-hugging gown. Ransolm was in the audience tonight. He’d be seated somewhere obvious and she hoped the light would let her see his face.

"Am I supposed to tell you to break a leg?" Ransolm was trying to be serious and failing miserably. His eyes were no doubt crinkling at the corners.

"That's theatre. I'd really rather not!"

"You look stunning." This time, his voice was a caress.

"You haven't even seen me yet—“

"But I know you will." 

How in the worlds was she supposed to concentrate? A burst of applause told her the reunited Modal Nodes had finished their second encore.

+

Both of them were brimming with laughter and champagne when they arrived at his quarters later. Vasi was wrapped in his evening cloak, and Ransolm’s arm was wrapped around her waist. Surely she could guess why he wanted her here. Surely she knew how he regarded her by now. Her hotel room was out of the question for obvious reasons. Where else could they have a moment alone?

"You were marvellous tonight," Ransolm smiled, keying the door open. He meant every word. He'd counted the moments until he could make his excuses and finally have her all to himself. His hand sent little tingles along Vasi's spine as he escorted her inside.

"You have to acknowledge your bias," she laughed, resisting the urge to grab him by his lapels and kiss him senseless. 

Ransolm wanted to forget all about being a gentleman. But this of course was Vasi—she was special; she'd also been through hells and back. She trusted him, he cherished her, the last thing he meant to do was overwhelm her with intensity. His objective? To make sure she understood this was far from platonic on his part any longer—if she’d have him. Other than that, he would follow her lead.

He led her through his echoing apartment and out onto the terrace on the pretense of admiring Crait’s night sky. He’d always loved the stars; so did she, and it wasn't as though he had furniture yet anyway. 

The new galactic capital was designed to minimize light pollution, and the starscape overhead was truly spectacular. Ransolm was jealous of his cloak, which Vasi wore over her sheer evening cape to ward off the evening chill. Force alive, he'd warm her up any way she wanted him to.

"Look up," he said softly, his eyes never leaving her face. She did.

He moved to stand behind her, his breath warm against her ear. Vasi shivered; Ransolm took that as his cue to fold her gently against him. He hoped against hope that she wouldn't recoil. Her hair was fragrant with roses and spice and he closed his eyes, breathing her in, resisting the temptation to bury his nose in those glorious curls. He was tender, tentative, and very much aware of how she trusted him. He would never betray that gift.

His hands moved to her shoulders before settling into place and resting lightly on her upper arms. "There's Riosa," he said softly, pointing to a pinprick of light in the northeastern sky. "And there? Estrella." Vasi’s homeworld. It seemed to him she snuggled a little nearer. Encouraged, he rested his chin atop the crown of her head--only to feel her stiffen. 

He stepped away. Aware of her history, the last thing he meant was to make her uncomfortable.

+

He backed off--pulled away, exactly when she'd been about to let herself melt against him. Despite his flirting, his teasing, his touches, he'd stepped back from that invisible line he'd never actually crossed. Again. This was never going to work--not ever.

She was doomed to remain his confidante. She'd done everything short of throw herself in his direction since arriving on Crait. She’d played along with Sura and Charth and Tar, agreeing to surprise him in what now felt like perfectly ridiculous fashion. Hevasi had totally lost her head over Ransolm Casterfo, that was all there was to it. A friend--that was how he saw her---nothing more.

A single tear trickled down her cheek in the starlight. It was sheer bad luck when Ransolm noticed before she could brush it away.

"Vasi--you're crying—"

"I should think that's rather obvious,” she whispered.

"But why?" Ransolm brushed that tear away with the pad of his thumb, which only prompted several more.

"Never mind, Ransolm." There was no help for it. Especially not when he did things like _that.___

_ __ _

_ __ _

"I do mind--I mind very much." But Hevasi turned her back, and wasn't about to enlighten him. 

Words came easily to Ransolm but he struggled to find the right ones now. "It’s selfish of me, I know, but seems unfair. You've only just arrived. I wish you didn't have to leave again so soon."

"Agreed," said Vasi sadly. She would leave. Nothing would change. Her attraction to him was hopelessly one-sided, no matter what Tar or Charth or anybody else seemed to think.

Ever since their meeting in the hangar bay, she'd felt their connection was something special. There were times she'd sworn he felt the same. But Ransolm had charisma to burn, and people were attracted to him all the time. Ever since arriving she’d seen plenty of women - and even some men - throw themselves his way.

She'd dropped hints with the song and the chrono, and when he’d met her at the edge of the stage it had felt like something out of a fairy tale. Ransolm had flirted and charmed ever since, making her feel like the most important person in his universe.

But other than a kiss - a chaste one, at that - he'd never crossed the line she so wished he would. The hard fact was, the one man she felt so much for didn’t feel that way about her. 

She knew he’d gone from friend to lover with Leia Organa. The fact he had a child meant he’d done something similar with Sinine—even if it didn’t sound as though he’d loved her. But there must have been physical chemistry between them. Was she head over heels for a womanizer? She doubted it.

Ransolm was open about his affection for her. She knew better than to think she was unattractive. She didn’t want to leave, only to be left wondering what it felt like to be in his arms. No one held a candle to this man--not for her.

Hevasi Joy was far from reckless but in that moment resolved to throw caution to Crait's four winds. Never in her life had she made the first move. She’d never even asked a guy out for caf. She'd already made an idiot of herself with the song—unless he hadn’t understood.

Ransolm was beside her, elbows resting on the railing as he gazed out over the lights of the new galactic capital. He looked pensive— almost sad. 

The day after tomorrow, she would leave. Who knew when they'd meet again?

Using his forearm for support, Hevasi bent over to slip off her sandals. 

Ransolm forced his eyes away from a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage, reminded of how sweetly Vasi's gown hugged the curve of her bottom and kissed her hips. He swallowed, thinking there ought to be a law against side-slits. 

"Stupid shoes." Vasi gave an odd little laugh, unused to feeling so self- conscious with Ransolm. "Six hours of wearing them is quite long enough."

Ransolm ran a hand through his hair. Surely it was safe to focus on Hevasi's feet? Such slender, delicately arched feet, with prettily painted toenails that made him think of...candy.

"I see you have a spa pool, Ransolm. Do you mind?"

He did? Have a pool? No, he didn't mind the idea of her using it. Not at all._ For her feet. They’re tired. The hotel pools aren’t private and this one is. Don’t be an idiot._

_ _Vasi padded toward the pool in the courtyard, which was linked to the terrace that overlooked the city. It happened to be right outside his master bedchamber—not a helpful thought, not at all. One strappy sandal hung from either of Hevasi's hands as Ransolm trailed after her like a body trapped in a star's gravitational pull._ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

A single tap of her toe to the inset control panel--those candy-coloured toes again --sent water rushing into the spa pool as its covers slid away and tucked themselves out of sight. 

Cool water, warm water, hot water - Vasi's choice was hotter than he would have expected and the pool filled in a matter of minutes. She lifted her hem, dipping a dainty toe into the water to test the temperature.

Ransolm's skyrocketed.

Sweet Vasi— in his very private courtyard, about to slip her bare feet into his pool. He couldn't help but picture an alternate scenario.

She lifted her hem higher still and sat on the edge of the spa pool with her skirt bunched in her lap and those delectable legs dangling in the water. Then, she hit the jets.

Of course Vasi was shy by nature and nothing like her onstage persona. Years of experience meant she'd developed an easy manner with the public, not that her nature wasn't engaging enough to begin with as far as Ransolm was concerned. 

Her actions were proof of how comfortable she felt with him, how much she trusted him. Dancing and flirting aside, was it too much to hope that she was actually trying to tempt him? The chrono was an extravagant gift but Vasi had credits to burn and made generous gifts to people all the time—

"The water's lovely," she said softly. "I'm all in.” She glanced away. “I don’t suppose you are.”

Had he heard her properly? That last part had been said under her breath.

Vasi let Ransolm’s cloak fall from her shoulders and pushed it away from the water's edge. Her own followed, gossamer-thin and spangled with sparkles. That left her gown--surely she didn't mean to--

Apparently she did. "I know you well enough to know you'll turn your back,” was all she said.

The honourable course of action was to do so at once. Ransolm did, but when he caught sight of her reflection in the glass of the viewport opposite the effect went straight to his groin. Ransolm closed his eyes, drawing in a ragged breath. He was completely aroused and his cloak was very much elsewhere.

Vasi called out when she was decent and Ransolm swallowed, hard. There was nothing decent about his thoughts, nothing whatsoever. 

They were alone. A fully undressed Vasi was metres away. Her utterly delectable self was in his very private spa pool. Holy hells of Mustafar, did she mean to _kill_ him?__

_ __ _

_ __ _

If seduction was her plan, she'd had him the moment she'd stepped through his door--or maybe onto Crait. But this was Vasi so two instincts warred within him. The first was to protect her at all costs; the other was to tear her clothes off.

She'd just seen to the clothing all by herself.

+


	36. Chapter 36

"I know you well enough to know you'll turn your back," she said softly.

No sooner had he done so than Hevasi slipped out of her gown, letting the silky fabric pool around her ankles as she saw to her underthings. Modesty was preserved when she submerged herself in the frothing bubbles of the spa pool, all the way up to her chin. 

Which defeated her purpose entirely.

So when Ransolm turned around again, the bubbles began where the neckline of Vasi’s evening gown normally ended.

"It's hardly right to stand and watch you," Ransolm managed. Especially not the way his clothing was constraining him, though surely it was too dark for her to notice. “You may prefer to turn yours."

Hevasi shut her eyes instead, opening them when she heard the splash that told her he'd slipped into the water across from her. 

"All in--I believe that was how you put it,” he murmured, hoping his expression didn't reveal the truth of how badly he wanted her. 

"Yes.” Hevasi gave a sharp intake of breath when Ransolm stretched out his arms. They rested on the ledge so he could lean back comfortably. A series of pale scars crisscrossed his chest, plainly visible above the churning water. Scars were a rarity—most wounds saw the benefit of bacta. The First Order hadn't spared him any.

"Does it repulse you?" he asked quietly. That wouldn’t have shocked him. 

"No,” said Vasi quickly. No. She wanted to trace those long, pale lines with her fingers, or maybe with her tongue. Ransolm was beautiful, scars and all. She flushed. "It only proves how much you've overcome."

He gave her a sad smile. He’d said the same to Hevasi more than once, whenever she'd wakened from a nightmare. His quarters had been opposite hers—until Leia. 

Leia had been his salvation. He'd done his best to be Hevasi Joy’s. She'd first clung to his hand, wide-eyed and frozen, when Snap had shouted for them to board the corvette in that frantic dash from Corellia. She trusted few men after her imprisonment. Ransolm considered it an honour to be one of them.

Now each had a new, palpable awareness of the other. 

They didn’t speak. Vasi tilted her head back, studying the stars. That drew Ransolm’s attention to the enticing hint of her breasts above the foaming water. He wondered just how soft and smooth that skin would be--

Until the jets abruptly cut out. She could reach the controls if she sat up higher. Of course that would leave her exposed—deliciously so—which meant Ransolm closed his eyes for Vasi’s sake. Not his own. Definitely not his own. Now, she could safely activate the jets again—except she didn't. 

He counted well past ten in his head, then counted again when he didn’t hear her make any move. Ransolm counted a third time. Only then did he look. Eyes of vivid blue turned black as he understood the message she was sending.

The water had stilled and was lower now. Everything was clear--perfectly clear. Ransolm blinked. Then he heeded her silent invitation, gliding toward the temptation just above the waterline.

The artificial currents of the pool might have stilled but a very real one crackled between them now. The frothing and foaming had ceased and thanks to soft, underwater lighting nothing was hidden from view. Vasi chose to look—she looked at all of Ransolm; there was rather a lot of him.

He knelt when he reached the ledge where she perched, his eyes level with hers. Vasi's were chocolate brown and flecked with emerald; he could drown in them. He searched them for a moment before reaching out with a warm, wet hand to smooth a dark auburn curl from her forehead. Droplets of water fell from his skin, beading her hair and falling against her flesh so that she shivered. 

Hevasi’s fingers trembled as she touched Ransolm's face for the first time. She smiled shyly, tracing his high cheekbones, his strong jawline. Her fingertips explored the stubble of his face; there was no shortage of it this late at night. Tiny drops of water in his lashes were like crystals.

He swallowed, the motion suddenly fascinating to Hevasi. She wanted to run her tongue along the column of his throat, to taste him there— to taste him everywhere. The backs of the long, elegant fingers she'd thought about so many times stroked her cheek. She wanted them lower, where drops of water fell from Ransolm’s hair and ran in rivulets between her fully exposed breasts, which pebbled with the kiss of the cool night air.

She wanted him to touch her and he had to know it now. Ransolm edged closer, eyes locked with hers, reaching out to trace her lower lip with a lazy finger. Hevasi drew that long finger into her mouth— slowly, deliberately, closing her eyes as she did, and imagining. The message was unmistakable.

"Vasi," breathed Ransolm, pulse hammering. He kissed her, hard and demanding, both hands tangling in her curls, which corkscrewed wildly where water dampened them. His mouth claimed hers before burning a path down her throat to the sensitive hollow just above her collarbone. Hevasi gasped, her fingers finding purchase in Ransolm’s hair as his tongue found her breasts and made them his own. She'd expected tenderness but got wildfire. 

She wanted more—more of him, to know all of him, and her thighs parted. His hands skimmed her sides as their mouths crashed together, and he found the curve of her bottom, moulding her against him long enough for her to feel his desire. 

Ransolm pulled back, breathing hard, asking a silent question. When her response was clear he set the soft, smooth skin of her inner thighs alight with the gentlest, most maddening touches. His mouth ravaged her breasts and set the rest of her on fire, underwater or not. 

Impatiently Vasi arched her back, seeking a different contact. She gasped when she got it, Ransolm’s open palm, flat against the ledge and between her parted thighs. On his knees, his eyes black with wanting, he waited—again—for permission. Which she granted, grinding herself against his palm as wantonly as anything she'd ever done in her life.

His arm was an iron band around her now, trapping her in place as she writhed against him.

"Vasi--" he rasped. "When--" 

_Now._ Her nails raked his back, her tongue tangled with his, her teeth —__

_ __ _

_ __ _

"When will I see you again?" Ransolm broke their kiss but not the sweetest contact. Vasi was hot against his palm.

"Tomorrow,” she breathed. She gasped as he slipped inside her.

"Breakfast. At your hotel. Say yes." Ransolm’s breath was hot against her skin where her shoulder met her throat. He kept her clamped in place against his hand.

"Yes," she cried, yes to both. And then he began to tease her, surely, slowly. Hevasi bucked against his hand, wanting all of him.

"Lunch,” he rasped, as her hips circled, seeking. “After the gallery opening—say yes. I'll cancel my appointments." 

"Can you?" 

"Yes,” he murmured, nipping at her neck. Their tongues tangled again, and his hand— Vasi threw back her head and cried out, biting his shoulder before speaking.

"Should you?"she gasped, thrilling to the feel of him.

"For you I will, sweeting. For you I will, just this once--"

She cried out again, hardly believing what he coaxed out of her. For his part he thrilled to how responsive he found her. 

"Keep your appointments, Ransolm.” Vasi kissed him deeply, as he thrust inside to match, his other hand flat against the place that made her quiver. “I’ll see you at the opening.” Both hands teased her, pleased her now.

His breath was hot against her ear as Vasi rocked against his touch. “Say you’ll come-- here—to me. Tomorrow. After Vicly’s.”

“Yes.” She felt him hot and alive against her knee and reached for him, for more of him, only for Ransolm to trap her questing hands and guide them gently away. 

“Not tonight, sweet one—tonight is just for you," he murmured. “I don’t even own a bed yet. No need for us to rush. 

Just as she was about to protest, Ransolm hiked her bottom clear of the water and onto the edge of the pool. "Up," he said thickly. The edge of the spa pool was pleasingly contoured and pleasantly warm, made for this—_she_ was made for this, for Ransolm's hot mouth to devour and his beautiful, beautiful hands to pleasure.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Lie back, sweeting.” He kissed the backs of her knees when she did. Then stubble scratched at Vasi’s throat, her breasts, her thighs—Ransolm gave her more, and her body sang for him. 

She gasped again when his tongue found her navel; she nearly blacked out as he learned secret after secret. He feasted on her, her hands tangled in his hair, and Vasi came apart in a thousand pieces with her legs wrapped around Ransolm’s shoulders.

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +
> 
> "Trip no further, pretty sweeting,  
Journeys end with lovers' meeting."
> 
> ~Twelfth Night
> 
> Um, plot returns next chapter.


	37. Chapter 37

+

If birds had been native to Crait, they'd surely be singing to match his mood. 

Smiling at the doorman and even the security droids, Ransolm breezed through the lobby of Hevasi's hotel the next morning, heading straight for its signature restaurant and the table he'd reserved.

He came here on a regular basis for breakfast meetings and the staff immediately showed him to his usual table. In the far corner, it was somewhat tucked away from prying eyes and afforded an excellent view of the gleaming white Senate complex, bright in the light of Crait’s morning sun. 

He was more than a little surprised to find Tar Har where he’d expected Vasi. Pleased to see his friend, Ransolm waved away the server droid's offer to seat him and pulled out his own chair, grinning at Tar. Nothing could dash his spirits today.

"Good morning, Eleven!” exclaimed Ransolm cheerfully; that was Tar’s jersey number. “To what do I owe the pleasure?" Hevasi was more early bird than night owl but wouldn’t have gotten more than a few hours’ sleep. It was perfectly understandable if she was running late.

Tar and Rose were on the same floor as Hevasi. How pleasant to have Tar's company until she made her appearance. Ransolm smiled to himself, picturing her sunny smile.

His own died on his face at Tar's expression—especially when his friend set a sonic neutralizer between their water glasses. Then he pushed a datapad across the linen tablecloth toward Ransolm after bringing up the news feed. 

"Caf? Tea?" inquired their serving droid. Tar ordered for both of them because Ransolm stared blankly at the screen in front of him. 

"Touching Family Reunion," read the first headline-- the blandest of them, right above an image of he and Sinine. It must have been taken yesterday morning after his visit with Aren in the deserted Senate square. 

It captured the moment he'd kissed and embraced her. The top of Aren’s head peeked just over his shoulder. Ransolm scrolled through other feeds featuring the same shot, many of them with far less neutral captions. His lips thinned at what he regarded as a shameful invasion of privacy.

"Whoops," said Tar lightly, his tone belying his seriousness. "A picture's worth a thousand words, so they say, and—"

"Where is she?" Ransolm interrupted, certain Hevasi would have questions. The timing of this was unfortunate—most unfortunate. Presumably the headlines had upset her. They hadn’t spoken of Sinine yet and he meant to set the record straight at once. Especially now. 

"Not in the mood to have breakfast with you, that's for sure. "A Man in Love," supplied Tar. "That's what one publication calls you.” 

"That is _not_ an accurate representation of the situation!" snapped Ransolm.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Tar held up his hands in mock surrender. "Don't shoot the messenger, "Prime" Senator.” Tar used the air quotes. That was Ransolm's nickname in certain circles, based on his looks and his bachelor status. "How you missed the headlines this morning I'll never know. It’s not like you--"

"Threepio briefed me on galactic affairs. I hardly have time for this nonsense!" Palms on the table, Ransolm pushed back his chair and stood up.

"Sit. Back. Down." Tar's smile was in sharp contrast to his tone. Ransolm sat. 

"Optics, Ran. You can't go charging up to her room. Think about how that would look. ‘“Galactic Affairs’— Tar shook his head as he reached across the table and scrolled to the screen displaying that very headline. Beneath it was a shot of Ransolm, sweeping Vasi rather dramatically into his arms the night of the inaugural ball.

“Figures Threepio missed the only ‘galactic affairs’ anyone’s reading about. What happened, did Sura sleep in?”

Ransolm shot him a withering glare. Tar was unperturbed. He’d seen Ran this steamed exactly once— two years ago. 

“You, my friend, have a thing or two to learn about living in the public eye." Tar smiled over at a pair of young Sullustans three tables away. Both had been trying not to stare ever since he'd shown up in the restaurant. Their parents kept shushing them, reminding them to be polite, but both of them wriggled like puppies.

Tar waved the kids over and exchanged a few words with his pint-sized fans before having Ransolm snap a shot of Tar and the kids with the older one’s wrist-comm. Both youngsters beamed from ear to ear when they returned to their parents. They were oblivious to the identity of the person who’d just snapped them posing with their grav-ball hero, not that their parents were. Tar immediately reactivated the sonic bubble around himself and Ransolm.

"You are always, always on display now, Prime Senator— whether you like it or not. You’ll never know who’s watching you or why. Your actions will affect the people you care about most, not that they wouldn’t anyway."

"That was a private moment!" Ransolm bristled.

"In a public setting," Tar reminded him, smiling amiably at the serving droid when their caf and tea arrived. Both men placed their breakfast orders, not that the droid didn't know Ransolm's usual. 

"Now that you're 'Prime Senator?” Tar used the air quotes again, further annoying Ransolm by reminding him he was sometimes referred to by the inglorious title of 'hottest piece of ass in the Senate chamber.'

Ransolm shot Tar another glare. 

"Not my words.” Tar shrugged. “Some public figures live for the attention. They cultivate it. Others prefer to keep out of the spotlight as much as they can. Plenty fall somewhere in between.” 

Tar took a sip of his caf, noticing that Ran didn’t bother with his tea. He was too busy tapping at his chrono. “I hardly need to tell you which category Vasi falls into. You know damned well she lives on an island in the middle of next to nowhere." Unlike the rest of the surviving Corellian Eleven, Ransolm had never visited.

Tar thanked their server, who delivered their orders in what had to be record time. Then he leaned back in his chair to study his extremely keyed-up friend, who’d just tapped his timepiece again. "Once upon a time you warned me not to ‘trifle’ with Rose—pretty sure that’s how you put it. I didn’t. I married her. Well, I doubt you mean to ‘trifle’ with Hevasi--"

"Of course not!" snapped Ransolm. "Is that what you're suggesting?" He was mightily offended and his mouth was a thin white line.

"Keep your voice down, Excellency. Too many people are watching, even if they can't hear a word you're saying. Seems to me that you and Vasi need to have a chat." Tar took another sip of caf. 

"Obviously!" Ransolm shot back. "Which is precisely why she's answering me now,” he said, waspishly—with a hefty dose of sarcasm thrown in. He'd tried to reach her several times and she hadn't acknowledged him once. "How absurd that she's not here. To think she sent you in her place—“

"She did," admitted Tar. "She showed up at our door this morning. It didn’t take a genius to see she’d been crying her eyes out. I don’t know why, but any fool could guess. She knows I’m up early. She asked me to meet you for breakfast, because she didn't want to make it look like _you'd_ been stood up.”__

_ _ Tar glanced around the crowded restaurant. “Scenes are not her thing." Several diners were discreetly eyeing the two of them. He could only imagine the reaction, had Hevasi and Ransolm shown up together after this morning’s headlines--even if she hadn’t been upset._ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

"Childish.” Ransolm was offended and made no secret of it. "She _has_ stood me up. Refusing my calls--ridiculous. I don't have time for this." He pushed back his chair again, plainly meaning to leave.__

_ _"Why should _she_ make time for _you_ at all, Prime Senator?” said Tar coldly. “You ignore her for two years. Now this. Did you not see the look on your face in that shot with Sinine? __

__

__

_ _ I clued into that business with the chronos at brunch, Casterfo. You’re good, but you’re not that good.” He'd seen Ran operate when lives were on the line using tech very similar to whisper. “Besides, it’s not like the two of you weren’t making eyes at each other when we planted those trees.” __

_ _ Rose and I had dinner with Vasi. Same story then.” He gestured to Ran’s chrono. “Those toys cost a shitload, by the way. Glad somebody thinks you’re worth it.” Tar shook his head. “I saw it—I see the way you look at her. I know the way she feels about _you._ Don't tell me you don't!”_ _ _ _

__

__

_ _ Tar felt like a jerk because he’d encouraged Vasi to make that leap. Rose was right—he should have kept his trap shut, not tried to play matchmaker. Here he was, sticking his foot in it again.__

__ “For all I know she's still crying her eyes out upstairs.” Possibly eating ice cream for breakfast. For some strange reason, Rose had added ice cream to their room service order._ _

_ _Ransolm felt like he’d just been punched in the solar plexus. “It was never my intention to hurt her.” _ _

_ _"I know. But look at this from her perspective: she hasn’t seen you in years, you start doing whatever you're doing— and then this happens." Tar glanced at the datapad. “It's not something to discuss in front of an audience.”_ _

_ _"Agreed,” said Ransolm quietly. He frowned. “I’d prefer to see her at once but my schedule complicates matters." His eyes went to the senate complex, where he was due shortly. “Fortunately we're having lunch together after the gallery opening. I’ll change the reservation and make it a private room." _ _

_ _"Don't bother. She and Rose are taking the Brethen kids out to the Crait Memorial. Rose wants to show them the crystal critters."_ _

_ _"Vulptexes," Ransolm corrected him primply, lips thinning. So she'd even cancelled their lunch date? Surely she'd be calm enough to discuss matters by then. As for missing the gallery opening--she'd made it clear that was the event she was most looking forward to.__

__ How foolish. There was such a thing as cutting off one’s nose to spite one’s face. She wasn't doing herself any favours--and she wasn’t responding to his messages. Perhaps he should comm her hotel room by regular means. _ _

_ _"Whatever. Dameron calls them crystal critters 'cause they are. They’re going to do the hike.”_ _

_ _Which would add several hours to the tour. The standard version included a visit to the mine and the scarred battlefield where the Resistance made its desperate stand against the First Order. The descent into the crater where Leia's twin had held off the onslaught was most impressive.__

__ Ransolm was not impressed. The site was some distance from the capital, and the hiking option turned it into a full day excursion. Needless to say, dinner before tonight’s festivities was no longer on the table for Ransolm and Hevasi._ _

_ _"I expect I shall see her tonight, then,” said Ransolm stiffly, no longer expecting any such thing. The final round of parties celebrating the official birth of the New Alliance was this evening. Gatherings would dot the capital. It was his duty to attend as many as possible. __

_ _ He and Vasi had agreed to leave Varish Vicly's for last, to ‘meet’ there and leave together--separately, of course, for appearance's sake. A private celebration in his quarters afterward seemed increasingly unlikely._ _

_ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ _

_ _Ransolm found he had quite lost his appetite. Vasi refused to answer his calls. She would rather see a war memorial than spend time with him—who’d fought two. It was crystal clear she preferred not to see or hear from him at all. Not only that, she was leaving first thing in the morning. Perfect. _ _

_ _"Understood," said Ransolm, who struggled to understand the familiar cloud settling in his chest, choking him.__

_ _ Tar saw how stiffly Ran held himself, how shuttered his expression had become. He sat quietly, waiting for his friend to say or do _anything_ instead of staring out the viewport at the senate grounds. ____

___ Little clusters of people were already moving about the square, some of them admiring the newly planted Chinar saplings. It took effort for Tar to contain himself this long._ _ _

__

__

_ _ Ransolm blinked. Wordlessly he slipped the signet from his left hand and set it beside his water glass. Beads of condensation trickled down the outside of the untouched glass like tears._ _

__ "Hevasi knows her history,” said Ransolm hollowly. “Give her this. She can take it on her tour." His tone was bitter._ _

_ _

_ _He excused himself, leaving Tar with the ring--and the bill, along with Ransolm's unenjoyed and rather excellent breakfast, which Tar decided to polish off. He could work it off at the hotel gym later._ _

_ _Ransolm was hurting. So was Hevasi. Tar pocketed the ring, hoping that without princesses or revolutions cluttering up the mix his friends would manage to sort out what had always simmered between them, just below the surface. _ _

_ _

_ _

_ _+_ _


	38. Chapter 38

+

The tour transport skimmed across blinding white salt flats on its way to the Crait Memorial. Hevasi Joy felt sick and blank. She tuned out the chatter of Rose and the Brethen kids, leaning her head against the viewport.

She’d made a mistake, and it hadn't been throwing herself at Ransolm. She should never have refused his calls. This morning’s headlines were no bad dream but it was impossible to reconcile the man she knew with someone who would ever treat her callously. All Vasi wanted was to talk to him.

_"Perhaps you'd like to start by learning the most effective way to drop a full-grown man to his knees."_

He’d been on his, last night — 

Tucking a stray curl under her cap, Hevasi turned her face toward the viewport, activated her chrono’s sonic microbubble and whispered his name.

But the paired unit blinked in the darkness of a desk drawer, between a sheathed dagger and a nearly obsolete datapad.

+

“Here.” Rose pointed to a gap below the console next to her. Leida and Lio Brethen both crouched to get a better look. Crait’s sun blazed through the ruined blast doors in place of First Order firepower but the interior of the mine itself was cool and dim. 

The guide had paused for questions, so their little group continued its private tour-within-a-tour. Rose Tico had lived galactic history when the First Order came for the last of the Resistance. She kept a low profile today, curious how the events of that day were presented to the general public--especially since Beaumont was the official curator. 

It was strange hearing herself referred to a ‘hero of the Resistance.’ Their Togrutan guide had just detailed how Rose Tico and Finn Dameron had narrowly escaped being crushed by closing blast doors while landing their stolen shuttle right inside the mine. He made it sound more dramatic than desperate.

_ __ _

_ __ _

Rose wore shades and a cap similar to Hevasi's, though she was much less likely to be recognized. Not every ‘hero of the Resistance’ ended up on the recruiting posters like Poe.

Hevasi had been a celebrity long before the First Order arrested her for speaking out against the Starkiller Incident. Fortunately, her talents included blending into her surroundings - no small feat considering what Rose considered total gorgeousness. Scuffed hiking boots, oversized clothing, cheap solar shades, even a fake accent? Her shirt was so awful that nobody looked at her face; they'd only remember the shirt.

“This is where Finn found the Viceroy’s pin?” Leida Brethen brushed the salt from her fingers, knowing enough to keep her voice down. She and her brother had been out in public with Hevasi plenty of times. Still, what was the harm in sharing this particular story? So she shocked her adult supervisors by abandoning her usual restraint:

“I heard that General Finn Dameron found Bail Organa’s firebird pin under this console,” chirped Leida when their guide acknowledged her raised hand. 

“That would be fun to imagine,” smiled the friendly Togrutan. “Only we don’t know that the Viceroy of Alderaan ever _had_ such a pin. The Rebel Alliance was a secret he’d have died to protect, I’m sure of that. Fortunately it lived on without him." His eyes moved to the next raised hand or paw.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

“But it’s true!” blurted Lio Brethen, purely out of loyalty to his sister and without any thought to consequence. “Finn found it, right here. Then he wore it to this weird party on Corellia, where there were fish and eels and everything, but he gave it to Ransolm Casterfo after they rescued him. Not from the eels - from jail.” His father had been there. Lio had heard all about those creatures, especially the one around Nerfina Shu's neck.

More than one raised eyebrow or non-human equivalent told him he’d probably said too much. So he said more, even though his sister flashed him the sign to zip it.

“General Organa had it made it into a ring. For the Prime Senator." Lio knew better than to call him Ran. "That's why our New Alliance emblem is a starbird inside a hexagon, isn't it?”

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

By this time, the guide wasn't the only one staring at the Twi’lek children and the petite adult humans in charge of them. Both young women wore dark shades and hiking clothing, but something about them seemed familiar...especially the dark-skinned one in that terrible shirt, whose hair was tucked all the way under her cap.

“The crystal kritters!” exclaimed somebody else’s nine-year-old. Thankfully, several inquisitive vulptexes trotted back and forth near the entrance to the tunnels. The tinkling of their crystalline coats drew everyone’s attention away from the young Twi’leks and their odd comments. 

Hevasi trailed the tour group as it moved in the direction of the vulptexes, relieved that people were trying for snaps of a subject other than her with their wristcomms. 

“Ran would _kill_ anybody who tried to take that ring away from him,” whispered Lio to his sister, enjoying the thought of his papa’s friend as dangerous - not that Charth Brethen was any less so.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Ran had given that very ring to Hevasi, essentially sending her a message. Tar had handed it to her just as she and Rose and the children boarded the transport bound for the Crait Memorial. 

Ran's signet was safely tucked into Vasi’s waistpouch, and she touched it for luck as she tried--again--to reach its owner.

+

The Galactic Prime Senator was very short- tempered after his very long day. His staff were taken aback when he swept through his outer offices without a word. 

He entered his inner office alone, waving away his serving droid’s usual offer of refreshment. He strode into the adjoining fresher, barrelling straight into a small army of droids who were packing and rummaging and otherwise making what he considered a mess. 

“Threepio!” he barked. “What is the meaning of this?”

The droid poked his head into the fresher from the adjoining dressing room:

“Your Excellency! I'm pleased to report that relocation of your personal effects is proceeding as scheduled. Your master suite is complete, and fully furnished as per your instructions—“

Ran vaguely recalled agreeing to something of that nature—

“--and your comm systems are partially operational. Master Aren’s quarters, your personal kitchen and the catering kitchen are scheduled for completion within twenty-seven hours. The design team awaits your preferences with regard to the other spaces.” 

It was all Ran could do not to throw this lot out the nearest viewport.

_ __ _

_ __ _

“I expect you’re here for your change of clothes,” continued Threepio brightly. “This evening’s festivities are sure to be a delight. Varish Vicly’s especially. Your valet droid has laid out your clothing—” 

Since when? He’d laid it out for himself this morning, shoes and all.

“If you’ll follow me, sir!”

Which meant he numbly following the enthusiastic Threepio into the turbolift that whisked him to his personal quarters - but not before retrieving Vasi’s gift from his drawer.

+

He was honestly shocked at the transformation.

Droid designers and construction teams were unfailingly efficient and worked around the clock, so he had an actual foyer. His boots echoed on gleaming fogstone tile as he studied its soaring ceiling, its graceful proportions. This? This was home? 

The main living area was a work in progress, wires dangling overhead and tidy stacks of construction materials at precise and logical intervals. There was no trace of construction dust. 

He was completely floored by the master suite. The walls themselves cycled through every landscape or image imaginable as Threepio babbled on about it being specifically designed to soothe human senses. 

Hells, he was supposed to select an option? Apparently not if he didn't feel like it, because its default setting responded to changes in the occupant’s body temperature, heart rate and so on. Unless he picked one. He muttered “Seascape,” if only to stop Threepio’s chatter.

He sat on the edge of his new bed and blankly stared at a panoramic view of Crait City. He frowned, lying back for a moment. 

Which caused the entire ceiling to shift. When it showed him the actual sky above the penthouse, his reaction was enough to tell the room’s sensor network to freeze on what Threepio referred to as ‘Natural Planetary Sky,’ supposedly the most popular option and basically a clear ceiling to exactly that. He dismissed Threepio.

Ran had no time to contemplate and little time to waste. He headed for the fresher - twin sinks, another waste - intending to clean his teeth and splash water on his face. He stripped for a shower instead. Sonic shower, standard shower; he chose galactic standard, adjusting the setting so that the water stung his skin. 

Towelling off with all possible haste, he silenced the calming music biometric scanners found necessary to start piping. He felt like kicking a speaker. Fortunately, they were concealed. 

His so-called dressing room was an eye-opener, featuring comfortable lounge seating in the centre along with a refreshment bar. He wanted to lie down - to think - to rest - to escape the choking feeling that kept him from eating anyway. 

He made short work of donning his evening finery and tied his own tie, a formal spavat, after dismissing his brand new valet droid. He was unaccustomed to assistance and preferred to do without it.

The face that stared back at him out of the mirror was old--too old for Hevasi. Certainly too old for nonsense. Ransolm adjusted his deftly tied spavat with unnecessary force.

His red-stoned Chiss cufflinks were set out for him, right next one of several full-length mirrors and beside a set of absurdly commodious jewellery cases. Such extravagance; perhaps the next Prime Senator would require it.

He fastened the cufflinks, instinctively reaching for his new chrono. Which wasn't here, because he'd set it on his nightstand without so much as looking at it. There was no point; a chrono was a piece of jewellery, hardly a wristcomm. And Whispertech did not include messaging capabilities. 

He fussed with his cufflinks twice more and abruptly turned on his heel, striding through his suite and pointedly ignoring the chrono in question. It remained on his nightstand, right beside his comm unit.

It didn't do to become too reliant on others.

+

Ransolm Casterfo had been taut as a Wookiee’s bowstring all day long. Kuula Teda frowned. It was easy to guess the reason. 

He’d been his usual charming self all day - he hadn’t missed a beat - but everyone had tells, and she knew more than one of Ransolm’s.

The night was young; he'd never looked older. Not like he had the other night, eyes alight as he’d danced with Hevasi Joy. Not like last night either, when he’d kept her on his arm after the gala.

Kuula pursed her lips, noting that Ransolm had dispensed with Yama Dex’s services now that he was here at Varish’s. Which meant he saw no particular reason for staying. 

Ransolm’s aide was currently bookended by two tall young men. Kuula smiled fondly in the direction of the pair of golden heads keeping the flame-haired Yama company. Naturally the only teenagers in the room had gravitated toward each other, though Kuula suspected her twins were in _over_ their heads with the likes of Yama Dex.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Come,” she murmured into Ransolm’s ear as she looped her arm though his, smoothly extracting him from a conversation he wasn't in the mood for anyway. “Varish will forgive you for calling it a night.” 

Kuula caught Senator Brethen’s nod of approval as she steered Ransolm in the direction of their gregarious host so he could make his farewells. “You've more than done your duty tonight, my friend. Go home.”

He looked haunted at those words.

+

Kuula’s older son was monopolizing Yama Dex by the time Hevasi Joy made her arrival. Kuula wasn’t surprised, for the boy was intern to the Senator of Naboo and that gave them plenty to chat about. She wasn’t surprised to see the pop princess moving through the room with ease, either. The girl had the gift of getting others to do more talking than she herself ever did.

But that bright smile struck Kuula as a shade too bright considering the morning’s headlines, and her eyes kept scanning the crowd without settling on anyone in particular.

Miss Joy had to be looking for Ransolm. How unfortunate that he’d left just before her arrival. Then again, maybe not. Half the room was speculating as to their relationship anyway, and the other half had already met Ransolm’s Chiss lover. Kuula decided not to curse herself for meddling after all and promptly set out to do more of it. 

”How lovely to see you again,” she said warmly, taking the girl's hands in greeting. She meant it. Screw that holosnap, Ransolm hadn’t once lit up when he’d been within two feet of Admiral Sinine. “Ransolm will be sorry to have missed you, I'm sure.” Best cut to the chase, especially since she’d been the one to send him home.

Thinking of Ransolm's bleak expression when she'd bid him goodnight, memories Kuula had years of practice locking away suddenly intruded. She had been the one to coax a six-year-old Ransolm Casterfo out of his hovel and toward a new start after more than a year of pure hell. He'd been skin and bones and ferocity, a sunny child gone feral.

Rumour held they’d had to drag him from his mother’s cold arms after she'd choked to death from the toxins she’d inhaled for too long. Aren Casterfo had already succumbed; the Death Stars brought death to millions of Riosans before firing a single shot. Her parents, Ransolm’s —

As if witnessing Vader torturing his father wasn’t trauma enough for one boy’s lifetime.

Bringing him together with the daughter of that monster—fate had a twisted sense of humour. She’d heard whispers of his 'special relationship' with the Princess of Alderaan. Did he not deserve a joy he could keep?

”I hear you leave us tomorrow, Miss Joy.” A cruel irony in that name—unless it wasn’t. “I hope we meet again, and soon.”

Impulsively, Kuula drew the girl close for a kiss on both cheeks. “You’re good for him,” she whispered in Hevasi’s ear. Then she gripped her hands tightly. “He lost his parents far too young. He only remembers the loss. I doubt he remembers the love.”

+

It was a short distance from Varish Vicly’s sumptuous penthouse to the Prime Senator’s official residence. Prepared for the planet’s nighttime chill, Hevasi drew her evening cloak close and made her way across the well-lit grounds.

She tapped Ran’s signet against security panels as she passed, which had droids and organic personnel immediately waving her through checkpoints. The ring was more than simple jewellery. Close inspection revealed the embedded biohexencryption he’d added since becoming Prime Senator. His chalcedony signet was basically a free pass to Ran's private apartments. She’d noticed him using it as such yesterday.

Threepio’s droid network confirmed her identity once she reached the entrance to the private turbolift. Threepio himself confirmed that Ran was home and agreed to Hevasi’s request to let her pass without announcing her. She suspected her tear-stained face had something to do with his decision, and he’d probably seen today’s headlines.

Thank the Force for Kuula Teda. Otherwise she’d still be at Vicly’s, not that Charth or Sura wouldn’t have let her know that Ran had come and gone when they had the opportunity. She’d felt too many speculative glances directed her way to feel comfortable staying a moment longer than necessary. 

”Thank you, Threepio,” she said quietly, boarding the turbolift that would take her straight to Ransolm.

+

The Prime Senator of the Galactic Alliance lay flat on his back, unblinking. The starscape he was staring at only served to remind him of Hevasi. He closed his eyes, angry at himself for being weak enough to make a wish. 

But when the door chimed he leaped to his feet at once, pulling on his dressing gown and belting it as he dashed for the door.

He keyed it open without checking the monitor to find Hevasi, cloaked in midnight blue velvet.

She stepped lightly over the threshold and lowered her hood.

+


	39. Chapter 39

+

One look was all it took.

She stepped into his arms and he crushed her to his chest. Tears and the butterfly kiss of lashes brushed his skin when her cheek found the gap in his dressing gown. _Butterfly kisses_ \- where had that come from?__

_ __ _

_ __ _

He stroked her hair, breathing in roses and spice and tangling his fingers in curls as both of them murmured apologies.

"I never meant for it to be like this— "

"I know. I _know_ you. Forgive me?" She tilted her face toward his.____

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

"I ask the same of you." He kissed her forehead before resting his chin on the crown of her head.

Vasi’s response was to burrow further into the circle of his arms. The strong, steady beat of his heart was against her wrist when Ran folded her fingers in his.

"Tell me -" she began. “I'm ready to hear it. All of it. You started to explain." 

He had, but she hadn’t realized it then and had rushed them to the luncheon. "It's not how it appears, that business with Sinine.”

"I know."

"You know me so well." He marvelled that she did, that she could, that he'd ever let her close. Vasi was slight and gentle and delicate, but Ran was completely vulnerable to her and was beginning to understand exactly what that meant.

"I wasn't ready for this - for you - not then. Not until now."

"Leia," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. Leia, always Leia.

"She was more than a person to me, more than a friend or a mentor. The two were inseparable in my mind; the idea of her, the reality. And I betrayed her--" He kissed the top of Hevasi's head when she stiffened. "She forgave me, and saved me - saved _us._ " He kissed her again to underscore the last. __

_ _ "She was everything I needed her to be, until I found my way. I always knew I'd lose her. And I knew she'd always love her husband." Who’d hurt her, left her, run when the going got toughest. But that confidence wasn’t Ransolm’s to share._ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

Vasi weighed his words, wondering if Leia would forever be the one he’d always love, no matter what another gave him.

"I lost her, as I knew I would. And I held fast to the path I had to take,” he continued. “I couldn't waver, not for anything. What happened with Sinine—“ he paused. “I prefer to believe it would never have occurred under normal circumstances. I was a wreck; it functioned as a release. It was nothing at all like _this_. Not at all.”__

_ __ _

_ __ _

_This._

_ __ _

_ __ _

He drew a ragged breath. Then he drew Hevasi closer. But then a jarring alarm blared, prompting her to cover her ears. 

_ __ _

_ __ _

"Transmission from Chiss space,” Ran was equal parts elation and apology. "I don’t intend to miss one - though I may have overdone it. Come.” Taking firm hold of her hand, he hurried them to his only functioning comm system. 

Ransolm’s features softened as a chubby, silvery-blue face came into view. Vasi felt his fingers tighten around hers.

"Hello, you," he said softly, voice gentle as he gazed across lightyears. The transmission was remarkably clear, considering the unprecedented logistics involved. Vasi saw at once that one headline was true: the Prime Senator was very much in love - with his son. 

Who was a completely adorable, cherub-faced miracle sitting on somebody’s lap. Vasi felt awkward given the likely identity of the woman behind him. Only elegant blue hands were visible, along with a white flight suit. But Aren babbled a blue streak as Ran waved at the monitor in greeting, instinctively reaching toward the screen. His small and distant son did the same. Apparently he recognized his father.

"How are you, little one? Good morning - I think. Is it morning for you?" Ran furrowed his brow, uncertain. Was Aren on Csilla or somewhere en route? His son cooed, and Vasi marvelled at the child’s blue, blue eyes, so very like Ransolm's.

"I'm about to go to bed,” he smiled. “I'm glad to have seen you before I do. There’s someone I'd like you to meet." He glanced hopefully at Vasi and invited her closer. 

How could she refuse? Ran put his arm around her waist when she perched on the edge of the bed beside him. His cheek touched hers as they looked into the monitor together. His open affection surprised her, considering who else was literally in the picture. 

"This is Vasi."

"'Rono?”

"Yes," beamed Ran. "Chrono Vasi to you.” How amazing the boy had made that connection. He held the chrono up for his son to inspect; it had been on his nightstand and beside the monitor anyway. Aren turned his attention to his father's dominant hand and frowned. 

"Are you looking for my ring? I'm afraid I don't have it with me at the moment."

But Vasi did and pulled it out of her reticule. Aren blinked when she held it up to the screen but was much more interested in her face. 

"She’s beautiful, don’t you agree?” Ransolm winked, leaning closer to the screen. “Unlike Chiss, we humans come in a variety of colours.” He wound one of Hevasi's dark copper curls around his finger, informing his son that the proper name for it was 'auburn'-- which Aren ignored, completely transfixed by Vasi’s animated face. 

"Pleased to meet you," she dimpled, blowing the little fellow an exaggerated kiss. 

He immediately returned it, grinning right back.

_"You_ are a charmer, Aren Casterfo." Jogan fruit seldom fell far from the tree. "His eyes - they're blue!" She'd assumed that genetics would have made them red.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

"Yes. That's how I knew, without insisting on testing -- I'd never expected--" Ran broke off, squeezing her hand and electing not to finish that thought. Among the tortures inflicted on the so-called Corellian Eleven were forced drug injections, including one that supposedly rendered recipients infertile. Some of them had been tested to confirm as much and it didn't bear talking about. "It was supposed to be impossible." He left it at that.

"Nothing is impossible," Vasi blinked through her tears, smiling at the living proof. Aren waved to both of them from somewhere in Chiss space. The boy didn’t care for the serious tone the conversation had taken and squirmed, intent on escape. Vasi reclaimed his attention with a totally ridiculous face.

"I don't blame you,” chuckled Ran. “I can't keep my eyes off her either. But I’ve hurt her badly, completely unintentionally. You see, someone snapped a shot of us the other morning. Your mother was in it, too—“

A new voice cut in: "I would speak with Hevasi Joy." 

Sinine shifted so that she and Aren were both visible now. Her red eyes bored into Vasi’s, but Ransolm was content to leave them to it and promptly started a game with his son.

Hevasi was struck by the blue sheen of the Admiral's skin and especially by the glow of her eyes. The overall effect was one of eerie beauty. It felt foolish, but a shiver ran down her spine.

"It is not our intention to interfere in Ransolm Casterfo's personal affairs,” declared Sinine without preamble. 

Hevasi wondered how old she was, given how precocious her four-month-old was in relation to fully human children. 

"We have a strict policy of non-intervention with respect to your galaxy."

That was direct. When Hevasi tried to gauge Ran's reaction from the corner of her eye, he gave every indication of being totally absorbed in his game with Aren.

"Ransolm Casterfo and I are biological parents to Mitth’aren’casterfo. As such, we share a mutual interest in seeing him thrive, separate as our paths will remain."

So, no romantic feelings on the Admiral's part, either? This felt more like a business arrangement. How had Aren ever come to be? Vasi didn't sense undercurrents of anything much at all between the Chiss female and Ransolm.

"The circumstances surrounding his conception may strike you as unorthodox. With your permission, I will elaborate." Sinine directed that part to Ransolm, who gave a slight nod. He and Aren were saying something back and forth.

"Three months after the Battle of Exegol, Ransolm Casterfo encountered a situation that prompted him to act, guided solely by conscience and with tremendous risk to his personal safety."

Ransolm cut in: “I was near the edge of Wild Space, working to build support for the Galactic Alliance." Then he was back to whispering with Aren.

Sinine acknowledged that with a curt nod. "Yet he intervened without hesitation, assisting me in freeing a group of hostages I was charged with rescuing. The operation was successful. And so, he and I engaged in the traditional Dance of the Warrior. We danced alone." 

Which had to be the weirdest term for a one-night stand that Vasi’d ever heard.

"Our Syndicure was advised of his actions and ordered him eliminated because of the security risk he then posed." Sinine did not clarify the nature of that risk; neither did Ransolm. "I objected to that assessment and consulted my family. You know of the former Imperial Navy’s Grand Admiral Thrawn?"

Of course she did. Thrawn was unique in Imperial naval history. She’d chosen to do a paper on him once.

"We agreed that Ransolm's elimination was shortsighted, as well as morally objectionable. And so, we pursued an alternate approach.” The uproar that caused with the Nine Ruling Families of the Ascendancy was solely a Chiss matter. 

“My chosen one and I are not to produce biological offspring together,” she continued. “Selecting a Chiss to mate with would have been fraught with complications. Ransolm Casterfo demonstrated suitably desirable qualities, both moral and physical, and had already proven himself...pleasing.” Sinine arched a brow, a hint of a smile crossing her lips. She appeared to be waiting for Vasi’s reaction. Vasi froze her features so the Chiss Admiral wouldn’t get much of one. 

“And so, we proceeded." 

Proceeded to lengthen the one-night part into something more, from the sounds of it. Hevasi glanced at Ran again, who squeezed her hand but kept his gaze on Aren. 

"Once my personal objective was achieved--" presumably Sinine referred to conception--" the Mitth family persuaded the Ascendancy that Chiss interests were best served by allowing Ransolm Casterfo to live. It was determined that he had a certain standing in your galaxy; weakening a potential ally is foolish. By that time, the Grysk were making unprecedented forays into our space and yours. And so, Ransolm returned to his people."

To fight a war - a terrible war, against a terrifying foe. A mutual enemy had welded the fractured galaxy together more surely than anyone had dreamt possible. It had birthed an alliance with the Chiss, too. Together, they’d persevered, but only just. Rey Skywalker had supposedly performed miracles. Finn and Poe and Rose and Charth and Tar - all of them were heroes now, Ransolm included.

"Our policy of nonintervention is strict and clear. As Ransolm's energies were directed toward combatting the Grysk threat and unifying your galaxy, the decision was taken not to inform him of his offspring until his position was secure."

"Which went over splendidly," Ran interjected.

To Vasi's surprise, Sinine and Ransolm shared an amused smile. "Be that as it may, the situation, as it stands, is as follows: Mitth’aren’casterfo will be raised by both biological parents. He will move between your galaxy and Chiss space on a regular basis, escorted by Master Sky Walker, who serves as his guide and mentor in the ways of what your people call 'the Force'." 

Vasi drew in a shocked breath. Aren was _that_ Force-sensitive? __

_ __ _

_ __ _

"I will visit Ransolm Casterfo on occasion to discuss our son’s progress in person, but those visits will not be conjugal in nature. Have I made myself clear?" 

"Perfectly," said Hevasi. 

"Pretty!" Aren interrupted, clear as a bell. He’d directed that to Hevasi. Ran was pleased how quickly his son had learned another word of Galactic Basic. 'Beautiful' or 'breathtaking' would surely have been more accurate, but probably too difficult to say.

Sinine looked to be fighting a smile. "We shall leave you," she informed Ransolm and Hevasi. "I sense you have much to...discuss." Her full lips twitched.

That had been a Chiss smirk. Most definitely. Hevasi inclined her head politely at Sinine, bidding her goodnight and wishing her well. The Admiral did the same, she and Ransolm following suit.

Ran wiggled his fingers at his little one in farewell. Hevasi was charmed; the man was smitten. Impulsively, she blew a kiss at Aren—which he imitated. She pretended to catch it, and that had him laughing when the transmission cut out. 

”Vasi—“ Ran began. Now his eyes were only for her. 

“He’s beautiful. Perfect. And now I understand exactly what I saw. If it hadn’t been for the look on your face in that snap—“

“Our day might have gone rather differently?” He gave her a sad smile, closing his eyes when her fingertips stroked the stubble of his cheek. “Do you know what I feel for you, Hevasi Joy?” 

He kissed her then, deeply, fiercely, leaning her back against the bed and trapping her under him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned that kiss just as ardently—until she stopped. Which prompted him to do the same.

“What is it?” Perhaps this was too much. 

“You’re completely exhausted.” She sounded concerned. Ran sighed, letting his forehead rest against hers. She smoothed a lock of hair from his eyes, carding more of it through her fingers, which felt like heaven against his scalp. _She_ felt like heaven beneath him — but she was very, very right. Three days of late parties and early meetings had finally caught up to him. __

_ _ “I expect I’m not the only one.” He kissed the tip of Vasi’s nose before abandoning his earlier intentions and rolling beside her._ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

”You’d be right,” she admitted, sighing as she curled up against him. “I’m guessing both of us have had better days.”

”Agreed.” A colossal understatement if ever one existed. “May I see you off tomorrow?” 

”Of course.” She tilted her face up for a sweet, lingering kiss. “I’ve already packed. I only need to change into my travelling clothes—“

“So you’ll stay. Here. Tonight.” 

”I’d love to.” 

Which meant they’d best get off this bed before sleep lost all of its appeal. Ran sat up, then stood up, then offered his hand. Which she took. Wordlessly he led her to the dressing room. _Undressing room._

_ __ _

_ __ _

”This is well though out.“ Vasi admired the room; Ran admired Vasi. “Unzip me?” 

“Minx.” He kissed the nape of her neck, already complying. “I thought we agreed we were sleeping—this time.”

“We are.” 

He struggled to remember that as he slid the straps from her shoulders, kissing the soft skin there before letting her gown slip to the floor. The smooth shimmersilk was warm from the heat of her body against his bare feet. 

He forced himself to move away, retrieving the silk top to his pyjama bottoms and holding it out for her from behind as she removed her basics. 

Vasi closed her eyes, leaning back against him as he deftly fastened the buttons of the shirt—all the way down. Her back was flush against him, and the insides of his wrists brushed her breasts through thin Sleedaran silk. For whatever reason the contact felt more intimate than anything they’d already shared. Little butterflies inside her fluttered madly.

Ran moved his hands to her waist once he’d finished, reluctant to break their connection. He was strangely pleased by the sight of her in his shirt, which fell all the way to her knees. Only then did he notice her pendant. It had been hidden by her cloak until they’d reached his dressing room.

“Kyber?” That surprised him. 

She nodded, unfastening her earrings first. Their twin swirls of chalcedony matched the delicate swirl encasing the crystal. “My voice teacher gave it to me the last time he visited. It used to glow his pocket during my lessons. He never told me then.

He says it’s meant for me now. I’m supposed to wear it often. He’s getting along in years and wanted to pass it on while he’s still alive. The crystal is alive too— I swear. It actually _glows_ when I sing, or even play. Can you believe it?”__

_ __ _

_ __ _

He could, and wanted very much to witness that. He also suspected there was more to her story but was genuinely too tired to ask. Leia had told him that kyber crystals were sentient. Interesting that this one glowed for Hevasi, and fortunate that no one had cut or drilled it.

“Allow me.” He pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck as he unfastened the clasp, placing the pendant beside his cufflinks on the dresser. 

“Oh—“

Ran’s eyes widened when he saw what prompted her sharp intake of breath. His red cufflinks were glowing, faintly orange now that Vasi’s kyber touched them. Her crystal did the same—which was strange, for it was otherwise as green as the flecks in her eyes.

“Are they having some sort of...conversation?” For lack of a better word. Hevasi blinked, mystified.

“I’ve no idea.” Ransolm shook his head, equally bewildered. “But the stones in those cufflinks are from Chiss space. The shield they power is supposed to be strong enough to repel a lightsaber attack.” Though why such a gift would be ever be useful he couldn’t begin to imagine. Rey, Finn and Master Sky Walker were the only beings he knew of with lightsabers at all. 

“So when the electorate tires of you, at least they won’t get rid of you that way?” Hevasi teased. 

“I should hope not! Though I suspect the honeymoon will be over in another three months at best,” he grinned. Politics. His time as political darling was sure to come to a screeching halt, despite his principles - or because of them. It was simply the nature of the beast. 

As they lay down together, Vasi recalled the many times this man had comforted her, all the times he’d come to her after she’d cried out in the night. Ran had chased those nightmares away. He’d usually stayed at the foot of her bed while they’d talked. They’d talked for hours, years ago. Sometimes he’d held her hand in the dark. 

She found that hand under the covers now and laced their fingers together. 

“Goodnight,” they wished each other at the very same time, but not before sharing a kiss.

This time he would be there when she woke. 

+

Hevasi woke first. Propping herself up with an elbow, she took a moment to admire the view. Stubble darkened Ransolm’s jaw and his hair was adorably sleep-tousled. She smiled, thinking he looked much younger when he slept. She contemplated kissing him awake... until she noticed a prominent tenting of the sheets.

She glanced at the bedside chrono to confirm they had a minute or to before the alarm went off; a man’s morning glory was always best appreciated.

Ransolm gasped as he woke, adrenaline spiked, heart pounding—until he realized where he was—exactly where he was, and more than a few inches of him. Vasi learned his secrets then, hands splayed across his thighs. Her sweet, hot mouth drew incoherent sounds from the back of his throat as he clutched auburn curls.

“Good morning, you.” Her eyes sparkled when she kissed him, after. Then she scrambled off the bed and made for the shower.

Ran sat up, lightheaded, running both hands through his hair and scarcely believing this was his life. Cheery humming accompanied the sound of running water in the fresher beyond. Apparently Vasi opted for standard over sonic if she had the option. 

“You are _not_ to join me, Prime Senator!” she scolded playfully, when she caught him trying to sneak in and do just that. “I can’t miss my flight.”__

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t waiting with a warm, fluffy towel when she stepped out of the shower. She shrieked when he scooped her up, gallantly carrying her to...the dressing room. Where he informed her in no uncertain terms that he meant to court her properly.

“You and your antiquated sayings!” That was an old joke between them.

“You secretly adore them,” he teased, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“I adore not having to hide how much I adore _you._” She stepped into her gown and he zipped her up. “Court me—how do you propose to do that? Your schedule stinks. It’s worse than mine, and we’re not exactly unrecognizable.”__

_ _ “You rendered _Leia_ nearly unrecognizable. Rumour has it you sneak around in public all the time. I have faith in your ability to disguise yourself, don’t tell me it’s misplaced!”_ _

__

__

_ _ “Says Leia Organa’s ‘Fulcrum’—“_ _

_ _ “Hevasi Joy’s suitor,” he reminded her, kissing the top of her head as she fastened her jewellery. Their stones had stopped glowing, for whatever reason._ _

_ _ “There you go again, you and your old fashioned terms. What if we don’t suit?” She slipped on her shoes as he draped a plum-coloured velvet cloak over her own of midnight blue. Best not to enter the hotel as she’d left it last night and she’d keep the hood up._ _

_ _ “We’ll find out.”_ _

_ We._ “I like the sound of that.” __

_ _ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

+

Not long afterward, a sharp silver speeder halted at the main entrance to Hevasi Joy’s hotel. The head valet wasn’t the only one staring. He silently gave his underlings the signal that meant he had dibs on this stunner. A vintage AM-DB5? Here? On Crait? 

But then plenty of beings were here for the festivities, and plenty more were in the process of relocating as the new galactic capital sprang up out of the salt flats.

He beamed as he approached the vehicle, curious as to who would emerge from it-- or from the hotel, if they were only picking up. Whoever it was travelled early. Most people were asleep, and some were only making their way back from the parties now.

Take that cloaked couple he’d spotted earlier, for example. Both had kept their hoods up. They’d exchanged one hell of a passionate kiss just beyond range of the hotel’s security cams. The woman in the plum cloak had entered the hotel but the man had disappeared.

Before the head valet could so much as open the door, the speeder’s driver hopped out. “Good morning,” he smiled. He seemed a dashing fellow, even with his shirtsleeves rolled up and his hair damp from the fresher. 

Tall, unshaven, nice boots, nicer chrono —damn fine speeder. The valet was sorely disappointed that the gentlebeing didn’t hand the key fob over for parking. He leaned against the DB5 instead, folding his arms and obviously expecting someone.

“A real beauty you have there, sir.” The chief valet was dying to ask about the vehicle but knew it wasn’t appropriate to comment any more than he already had. The other valets were inching as close as they dared. 

But the fine tall fellow with the wet hair and the dark shades grinned, sharing the valet’s enthusiasm. He patted the hood and launched into an explanation: “The short version? Found as a wreck after the Alliance liberation of the slaves on Canto Bight. Salvaged by friends of mine. Restoration took over a year and was very much a labour of love. It has some clever modifications—“

The valet would have dearly have loved to hear more, especially about those modifications, but the tall man raised his shades and beamed at the vision of loveliness emerging from the main doors of the hotel.

Holy hells, it was Hevasi Joy. All in sunshine yellow, and about to get into a speeder with Prime Senator Casterfo —who walked past him several times a week. The valet hadn’t even recognized him, he’d been so taken by the speeder. Half of the valets were openly admiring it by now.

The other half were subtly admiring Hevasi Joy, who’d just been kissed on the cheek by the Prime Senator. Oho, that so was the way the wind blew? His wife was right; Casterfo was smitten by the pop princess, not some Chiss he’d had a wartime fling with.

“Good morning, Miss Joy, I trust you slept well?” 

Ha, so formal? Her luggage was stowed inside the DB5’s trunk and her droid had arranged itself in the nearly- nonexistent back seat. 

The lovely Miss Joy posed for a holosnap with the valets before thanking them for their help the past few days. Casterfo tipped them, a crazy sum he probably didn’t even realize he’d handed over. He was too busy looking besotted by Hevasi Joy.

Casterfo himself helped her into the speeder. When a man did that it was a new love or a new speeder, in this case possibly both. 

The valet was hopeful of seeing both beauties again. The glamorous pair sped away, presumably to the spaceport for an early-morning departure.

The valet chuckled to himself, knowing his wife would appreciate this nugget of gossip. She’d voted for Casterfo. So had he.

There were all sorts of people in the galaxy, weren’t there? Some snuck around in long cloaks past dawn, probably needing to sleep off their hangovers. Like that pair he’d seen earlier.

And then there were others, like the pair he’d seen off. Two of the ‘Corellian Eleven.’ People who got things done; who’d helped bring down the Order. 

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ransolm’s classic silver AM-DB5 is a wink at James Bond’s iconic Aston Martin DB5. ;) Just because. (And its modifications include gadgetry and a weapons system based on a fictional space-spy’s vehicle that Rey, Rose and Chewie design/contribute as Tar’s dad restores the speeder...for fun.)
> 
> The Chiss ‘’Dance of the Warriors’ is a term/idea I came across in fic. If I ever find it again, I’ll credit the author/originator properly!
> 
> To come up with a name for Sinine I consulted a list of how to say blue in various languages. Same for Estrella, which translates as star.
> 
> Kohlen crystals are a thing in ‘Master and Apprentice’, I didn’t make them up and they render kyber-powered weapons ineffectual. I think that’s cool. The kohlen crystals in this fic come from somewhere in the Chaos. (Tim Zahn’s invention. The Chaos, not the the kohlen crystal part.)


	40. Chapter 40

"It's a rite of passage--your initiation!” Hevasi beamed as she and Ransolm reached the edge of the drop into calm, turquoise waters. They stood atop an unusual arch the sea had carved into the volcanic rock of her island home.

Behind them was a tranquil lagoon and its powdery white sand beach while before them stretched the ocean, trillions of diamonds glittering to the horizon. It was her favourite time of day. 

Ransolm had just arrived for his first break since taking office, and Aren would join them in twenty-four standard hours. Seabirds wheeled overhead in the clear blue sky. It was safe to say that her heart soared with them.

"This is insane."

"Says the man who stormed a Star Destroyer?” Vasi teased. 

"Inflitrated," Ran quipped. "Believe me, there's a difference!" 

"I heard all about that Star Destroyer plan. The galaxy knows you as _quite_ the rabble-rouser--" Vasi's preferred term for ‘Resistance recruiter.’ "Do they have any idea you're a reckless idiot at heart? This must feel awfully tame in comparison." Her smile was wistful. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

A light breeze ruffled Ran's hair as he assessed the drop in question. Clad in swim trunks for the first time in a decade, he hadn’t budged since following her lead and peeling off his shirt.

Eyes still on the horizon, Vasi casually kicked off her sandals. "Charth's kids love it, especially when the delphins join us. Finn and Poe have been known to take it to extremes." They’d literally taken the plunge here, for better or for worse. 

Both had been guests at a small house party she’d hosted a few months after Exegol. Their wedding had been very much spur-of-the-moment once they'd learned that a priest from the Church of the Force lived on an island nearby. 

They’d jumped from this arch after exchanging vows, fully clothed, Finn shrieking the whole way down. He’d jumped, though it turned out later that he’d never had a swimming lesson in his life. Vasi saw no point in bringing any of that up; Ran had been off with the Chiss back then. He’d missed plenty over the years, even if he was intent on making up for it now.

“Come,” she smiled, stepping closer to the precipice and instinctively reaching back for Ransolm's hand. When he didn’t take it, she turned —to discover the dashing Ransolm Casterfo chalk white. 

_Ransolm? _ How shocking to discover that he was afraid of heights. He was by all accounts an outstanding pilot, even if nowadays he was limited to hovering in a Senate pod—though that had to be dizzying. Both scenarios involved controlling something else, but Ran was on his own two feet right now. Perhaps that was the difference? She changed tack._ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

"It's not for everyone, of course. I thought we might take a moment to enjoy the view. Behind us is a lovely beach." Vasi gestured to the lagoon at their backs. "Over a kilometre of powdery white sand. The delphins can visit us just as easily there. Come," she finished brightly, stepping back from the brink.

Ran stood rooted in place. 

Hevasi moved toward him, smiling warmly, both hands extended—which he took. His strong hands were more than a little clammy. "Storming ships, blowing things up, sneaking around behind enemy lines? Those aren’t for me, you.” She stood up on her tip-toes to kiss him on the cheek, already slipping her shoes back on. 

Performing questionable manoeuvres with starfighters? Not her; she’d never learned to fly. Finn and Tar had done their level best but she still couldn’t hit a target with a blaster. 

“This isn't everyone's cup of tea,” she continued. “Speaking of which, C-3LLO will have made sure there's iced tea waiting for us in the cabana by now. Shall we?"

Ransolm understood what Hevasi was doing—graciously allowing him to _save_ face by stepping away from the rock face. He would have none of it.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

"You love it. This,” Ran jerked his chin in the direction of the drop a scant few metres away. Hevasi was in her element. He meant to share it--or at least try to. Once. “I don’t care for heights.” A massive understatement.

Vasi blinked. Then she gave a slight nod, slipping off her sandals again. She pursed her lips as she noted the set to Ran’s chin. Stubborn, proud man. White as a sheet but refusing to yield; how very like him.

"Keep hold of my hand--" 

Ran flashed her a look-- 

"So you don't lose your ring." There was no condescension in her tone. "Might I suggest you consider how best to hit the water?" She flashed him an impish grin, enough for him to take her meaning.

_ __ _

_ __ _

He told himself to ignore the mad pounding of his heart. How absurd that heights affected him so. He could do this-- for Vasi, he _would_. Though small and inconsequential in the grander scheme of things, the principle of it mattered. What had Hevasi Joy ever asked of him? He was resolute.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

Hevasi recognized as much and took firm hold of his hand. "On three—“

Together, they leaped. They hit the water as one, with Ransolm glad of her warning. He tried to let go when his weight drew her deeper than she would have otherwise gone but she hung on, staying with him. The two of them surfaced together, laughing and shaking the water from their hair.

"Make that _completely_ insane!" In truth, it had been exhilarating--quite the rush, now that they'd done it. Besides, what was this leap in comparison to the massive one they'd already taken? __

_ __ _

_ _Vasi somersaulted gracefully in the refreshing water before rolling over to float on her back. Ransolm tangled his fingers in hers, tasting the tang of salt as he kissed the tips, and relishing how buoyant he felt in the sea. __

__ When was the last time he’d swum in the ocean at all? He couldn’t recall. Colourful fish darted all about them, every which way, once the water grew still. Ransolm discovered it was possible to kiss someone satisfactorily while treading water._ _

"Do you miss it?" asked Vasi softly when they came apart for air. "The adrenaline?" Of war, of rushing headlong into danger, of constantly risking his life and living on the edge.

He knew what she meant and shook his head no, his gaze holding hers. "Believe me, there are other ways to feel alive.”

Then he was all mischief feigning innocence. "I took care as I hit the water - but it seems I lost my suit on the way back up." Ransolm arched a brow, clearly pleased to be wearing nothing but the birthday version. 

_ __ _

_ __ _

"We’ll have to hope the delphins find it, then.” Vasi attempted to keep a straight face, nearly impossible in Ransolm’s company.

"How is it you haven't lost yours?" He referred to the swimsuit he was busy readjusting. 

"Outstanding engineering," she said primly. Ransolm applied himself to making further adjustments, all while treading water. Force alive, but this was living. “Wicked man!" They'd set the seas boiling at this rate.

She pulled away, readjusting Ransolm’s adjustments and saucily tossing a challenge over her shoulder. "Catch me--if you can!" Then she knifed through the water toward the beach of the lagoon in the distance.

"Why are we ignoring the closest one?" Ran was in hot pursuit, mostly because he had plans for when they reached dry land. Rocks and boulders littered the shoreline on either side of the archway on the seaward side.

"Tide's coming in!" Vasi called out, grinning and increasing her lead. 

Ransolm was an excellent swimmer, but Vasi was all sleekness and speed. Which suited him well; he never could resist a challenge. The tide began to surge as he caught her by the ankles, just as they reached the shallows--if only because she’d let him. 

He caught her, then kissed her, then hiked her legs around his waist as they stumbled ashore, falling together in the surging surf once they reached the white sand beach. 

Ransolm couldn't resist a wolfish grin when he divested her of her bathing suit. "Outstanding engineering," he declared. 

Hevasi wound her arms around his neck, laughing and gasping and elated to have him all to herself for once in her life.

Fine white sand coated her lithe, wet body as though she'd been dipped in sugar, all for him.

This was wildfire an ocean couldn't begin to extinguish. The rising tide began to swell; she was atop him, then astride him, their coming together as inevitable as any waves meeting the shoreline.

The tide was coming in, not that either of them cared; sand was getting everywhere and neither of them cared. 

They spent the rest of that precious day of firsts in a sun-filled chamber open on three sides to the sea, its floor-to-ceiling shutters flung wide so that the sheer curtains of the canopy bed billowed in the breeze. 

“I have a theory,” Ransolm murmured, nuzzling the shell of her ear as the sun set in a glorious blaze of scarlet and gold._The Force surrounds all things, binds all things..._ Leia’s words in what felt like another lifetime, long ago beneath a mirrorbright moon.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

He asked Hevasi to wear her kyber pendant that night. In the light of a silvery tropical moon and a sky spangled with more stars than Ransolm thought he’d ever seen before, her body sang for him, and his for her. The sentient crystal glowed a bright, luminous green - the colour of hope. The Force—it was the essence of connection.

+

Halfway up the boarding ramp as soon as it lowered, Ransolm scooped his toddling son off his feet and tossed him over his shoulder. His reward was a high-pitched squeal. Vasi kissed Aren’s fingers in greeting before he and his grinning father headed for the beach. A cabana awaited, stocked with everything either of them would need for a day at the seaside. 

Vasi's heart sang to see Ransolm and his boy together. Aren insisted on calling her ‘pretty’; apparently that was his name for her now. Of course a full-blooded human infant wouldn’t be calling her much of anything at his age, especially not with having seen her face once — on a monitor. She smiled to herself, sure who was responsible for the coaching.

Master Sky Walker possessed a similarly youthful exuberance. That was remarkable, considering Hevasi had it on good authority that he was at least eighty years old. Then again, species aged differently. Unfamiliar with his, she inquired as to his dietary preferences as she showed him to his room in the east wing of the villa. He professed to have none in particular, but did suggest that he and Aren were especially fond of soup.

The diminutive green Master pronounced himself delighted when they reached a bright chamber with lovely views of the sea on two sides. He immediately headed to the oversized balcony, which overlooked a rockier section of the coast.

”If you prefer to sleep with the shutters open, be sure to activate the comfort shields,” Hevasi advised. “We’re in the tropics. A shortage of natural predators has led to a regrettable overabundance of lizards and frogs.”

She smiled apologetically, somewhat taken aback by how pleased the Master appeared at that news. She caught a brief glimpse of sharp, pointy teeth when he murmured a comment about ‘restoring balance.’ How strange that he favoured soup with a set of choppers like those.

”May I offer you some refreshment?” Aside from the chilled beverages already on the fogstone table next to the chesterfield.

”I am your guest, and you are therefore at my service? Ha!” The tiny green Master chuckled. Why he found that amusing, Vasi couldn’t begin to guess. But he smiled again - he was very friendly- announcing his intention to take a stroll after his long voyage from Chiss space. 

“Feel free to explore, and do make yourself at home. Although you may prefer to avoid the cove to the northeast.” Hevasi wrinkled her nose. “Snakes and frogs everywhere.” Not that she minded snakes or frogs, but experience had taught her that many a guest felt otherwise.

Already cheery, the Master brightened even more. He declared his stroll would be a long one, and advised Hevasi not to expect him for the noonday meal.

+

Ran drew the heavy curtain to shield his son from the tropical sun. Aren was worn out after playing with the delphins—to Ran’s amazement, there really were delphins—and splashing in the water for hours. The child munched happily on soft fruit that was supposedly fine for him, making a sticky mess of the serving tray and looking immensely pleased with himself.

This was literally a whole new world for the boy, a far cry from the ice and cold he was accustomed to. Ransolm frowned, examining his son’s silvery-blue skin for the slightest hint of sun damage. Aren was still cool to the touch and didn’t appear to have changed colour despite his time on the beach. Chiss ran cool, so that much was normal.

He sighed, leaning back and telling himself to relax. It was a joy to see the boy, but he was twisting himself into knots with his uncertainties. Vasi assured him he was doing just fine. He hadn’t _felt _fine watching his flesh and blood on the back of a wild delphin—no matter that Aren had been chortling the whole time, or that he and Vasi and Master Sky Walker had all been right there. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

This was decidedly unfamiliar territory for Ransolm Casterfo. He’d spent what little free time he had poring over information related to infants and their development. Aren’s was outside normal human parameters, which didn’t help. Vasi cheerfully reminded him that the nanny droid he’d already arranged would provide much-needed backup, especially since his son’s visits would be regular and his own schedule was nearly always brutal.

Vasi approached, as radiant as the sun in the sky overhead. “Look at what the sea has left this time!” 

The tide was going out, leaving treasures behind. Vasi pressed a shell into Ran’s palm and a kiss to his cheek before joining him on the wide daybed so that Aren was safely sandwiched between them in the oceanside cabana.

”See? A shell. A seashell!” She grinned conspiratorially at Aren and offered it to him. He furrowed his brow, a study in concentration as he turned it over, examining its unfamiliar colours and textures. He shrieked in surprise when a butterfly, attracted by the fruit juice on his fingers, alighted for an instant before fluttering away on jewel coloured wings. 

”A butterfly—it’s fluttered by,” laughed Vasi. Aren grinned at the play on words, or maybe the sound of her voice and her ever-animated expression. He threw his head back, laughing out loud when she tickled his arm with what she called ‘butterfly kisses.’ 

Thinking she’d do the same to the sandy-haired man beside her—Ransolm’s hair was literally sandy from building a sprawling sand palace—her eyes sought his.

Her breath caught, for Ran’s face was streaked with tears. That made no sense at all, considering the look of pure joy that accompanied them.

She had no idea that shells and giggling and ‘butterfly kisses’ had together triggered memories that Ransolm Casterfo hadn’t known he possessed. 

The sandy-haired man in those flickering images he’d never forgotten, though this time his papa's eyes crinkled at the corners, and no masked demon was in sight.

But the other face—for decades, Ransolm had been unable to forget those still, waxen features; the eyes glassy and vacant and staring. 

This time, laughing eyes as blue as the sea smiled out of a sun-kissed face framed by honey-gold hair. “_Look at the treasures the sea left behind for us, Ransolm!"_ He could almost hear her say it, hear her laughing as she handed him the shells. __

_ _ And butterfly kisses—so many of them, not at the seaside but somewhere else— hazy memories of a house, with large windows--a window, overlooking a garden—_ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

”Are you all right?” Vasi was asking, touching Ransolm's face as gently as any butterfly. He relaxed his hand, realizing he clutched the seashell so tightly it was a miracle he hadn’t drawn blood.

”Never better,” he assured her, drawing her close and breathing in roses and spice and sunshine. Aren curled up against his thigh, completely flaked out from his adventures. Ransolm closed his eyes and listened to the sea. 

+


	41. Chapter 41

"Casterfo--"

Ransolm paused, glancing over his shoulder at Poe Dameron.

"There's something you could throw in—if you can make it work." 

Prime Senator Casterfo was about to make yet another speech in honour of Leia Organa, this time marking the official dedication of the _Princess of Alderaan_ here at the shipyards of the Corellian Engineering Corporation. __

_ _ He and Admiral Dameron's paths had first crossed in Coronet City. Finn had been part of that list-and-rescue mission too, dressed in a sparkly suit instead of his crisp General's uniform. Master Finn Dameron hadn't worn a lightsaber at his belt then, but Sura in formalwear was something he was well-accustomed to._ _

_ _Ransolm adjusted his midnight-blue robes and arched a brow in what Suralinda recognized as mild annoyance. He was that rarest of creatures, a natural orator. That didn't mean he cared to have his train of thought interrupted moments before before taking the podium._ _

_ _"Hope is like the sun--" Admiral Dameron began._ _

_ _"If you don't believe it when you don't see it--" Rose chimed in--_ _

_ _"You'll never make it through the night." Finn, Connix, Lando, Beaumont, Maz--even Threepio finished, with Chewie rumbling how often he recalled Leia saying so._ _

_ _A flicker of something that might have been hurt flashed briefly across the Prime Senator’s face. “To think I never once heard her say it.” __

_ _ Rose was reminded that Ransolm Casterfo would forever be something of an outsider, at least when it came to the Resistance. He hadn’t spent much time with the core group until the Grysk War and by that time Leia had passed. His role had been largely secret, his business conducted in the shadows. Would anyone tell those stories? Not Ransolm himself, she'd bet the ranch on that. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

__ Ransolm gave a terse nod, acknowledging Poe’s suggestion. Then he turned on his heel to step out onto the hoverplatform a few metres away._ _

_ _When Rose reached out to touch his sleeve he froze. He seemed tense after the exchange with Dameron and she wondered, not for the first time, if he or Poe were conscious of the rivalry she'd often sensed between them. Those subtle undercurrents had always centred around Leia Organa._ _

_ _"I'm not sure she needed to remind you," murmured Rose. _ _

_ _

_ _

_ _"--Rey of Jakku, and the Prince of Alderaan!" Ran flung his arm out with a flourish, directing the crowd's attention to the special hoverplatform high above, where Rey was about to christen the Galactic Alliance's new flagship with a magnum of the finest champagne. A pity they hadn’t managed Toniray._ _

_ _The masses would assume he'd misspoken or perhaps that they'd misheard, but a handful of beings on the VIP platform knew he truly had meant the ‘Prince of Alderaan’ . Leia's son was about to share in the honour of christening the ship he'd just named.__

_ _ Ransolm had long ago given up trying to understand how Ben Solo lived on in Rey Skywalker. He turned to the elegant, mirrorbright capital ship hovering low in Corellia’s atmosphere. The _Luke Skywalker_ would follow in due time, its design completely different._ _

__

__

_ _The crowds burst into applause as Rey cracked the magnum across the splendid ship's prow. Ransolm cracked a smile, recalling the morning Leia invited him along for a troop inspection over Hosnian Prime. There’d been nothing lacking in the New Republic troops but the same could never have been said for their equipment.__

__ This ship was as refined as Leia herself—appropriately enough, a force to be reckoned with. In Ransolm’s estimation, she was perfect. _ _

_ _The sight inspired nothing but confidence._ _

__

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_ _

_ _The blue and white starlines of hyperspace streaked past the viewport of Ransolm's stateroom. He was aboard his official vessel, a CR90 with the standard red markings denoting diplomatic status. Nothing so flashy as the emblem of the Alliance for him; he preferred not to stand out any more than strictly necessary. __

_ __ _

__En route from Corellia to Coruscant, he had just finished comming Vasi. She was heading to Coruscant as well, for a benefit concert and a fundraising gala in support of a cause dear to her heart. To his too, in truth. He was looking forward to sneaking her out for a night of dancing._  
_

_ _Ransolm leaned back against the cushioned headboard of his berth, contemplating a small wooden box Rey had passed to him privately. He’d tucked it into his pocket. This was his first opportunity to examine it more closely. __

__ It appeared to be a traditional child's music box with a charmingly old-fashioned wind-up mechanism. However, Ransolm had known at a glance it was meant for him and not for Aren at all._ _

_ _Hexagonal in shape, the music box was of dark, polished hardwood, small enough for him to close his fingers around. The emblem of the Galactic Alliance gleamed pale and smooth on its lid, the inlay beautifully worked in Mon Cala mother-of-pearl. Thoughtful, Ransolm traced the design with a fingertip, pausing in the centre—_ _

_ _Which set it apart from the usual seal of the Alliance. In the heart of the starbird was a symbol that he alone recognized--at least, as far as he knew. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ _An elongated diamond drawn from opposite points at once, it flared off at top and bottom rather than meeting in the middle. All four flares tapered away into points. Twin small diamonds were positioned at either side of the flare, just above the central diamond. _ _

_ _Ransolm was unaware it was based on the facial markings of the original agent 'Fulcrum'--Bail Organa's 'Fulcrum', once Anakin Skywalker's Padawan and so much more than either of those titles. Her name was Ahsoka Tano, her legacy almost completely lost to history._ _

_ _But he knew—just knew— what would play once he lifted the lid._ _

_ _He wound the box by hand, then opened it to find velvet cushioning. It was meant to hold a ring and there was room for nothing else._ _

_ _Ransolm usually wore two signets, one on either hand. The first was a gift from Kuula Teda, pressed into his palm years ago in the moonlit gardens of the senatorial palace on Riosa. He wore it when out and about, but not otherwise. __

_ _ The other ring he was never without. Ransolm slipped it off and held it to the light so that Bail Organa's chalcedony pin glinted in the centre of the hexagon.The Viceroy’s Rebel firebird was quite literally the starbird of the Galactic Alliance. _ _

__ Ransolm vividly recalled Finn giving it to him, and the memory of Leia pinning it to the pocket of his drab prison uniform would stay with him forever._ _

_ _Ran turned the ring so its inscription was visible--no words, just a symbol. It matched the lid, for 'Fulcrum'; his codename, the frequency Leia knew to trust, and a name the First Order had come to loathe._ _

_ _He had no need to wear this signet every waking moment. The dream it represented had come true. _ _

_ _Ransolm tucked Leia's gift into the jewellery box so that it nestled in the velvet. His hand felt strangely bare. Then he opened the lid of the music box completely, setting it on his nightstand so that its melody played. 'Mirrorbright'._ _

_ _"Thank you, Leia," he whispered._ _

_ _

_ _

_ _+_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Mirrorbright  
Shines the moon,  
Its glow as soft as an ember,
> 
> When the moon  
Is mirrorbright,  
Take this time to remember...’
> 
> ~Claudia Gray, ‘Bloodline’
> 
> The ‘Fulcrum’ symbol is easily Googled. :)


	42. Chapter 42

+

"I mean to go public." 

Vasi's hands stilled. Her eyes met Ransolm's in the mirror and she set her misting spray down, deciding her waves were styled well enough. "You're certain." Their status was a secret they'd agreed to keep, so he had to be referring to the biggest one of his life. Ransolm had long feared his past would somehow be used against him. 

"You’ll recuse yourself from further involvement with the war orphans' bill." A bill he’d wanted to table personally but had left to Charth Brethen.

"Yes." He kissed the nape of Vasi’s neck before fastening the delicate chain of Estrellan emeralds she handed him. He couldn't recall a vision more enchanting than the one before him now--Hevasi Joy, who’d brought nothing but that to his existence.

"You'll concentrate your efforts on the spicers and slavers?”

"Exactly! Dameron is chomping at the bit to take them on in force.” Which was more than a little ironic given Poe’s little- known history. “What use is a strong navy if half of it sits idle?" 

With post-war relief efforts finally winding down, Ransolm intended to launch an offensive targeting the worst of the galaxy’s organized criminal elements. They'd never been taken to task by preceding governments and had flourished in the days of the New Republic. Ransolm meant to change that.

"They'll accuse you of biting off more than you can chew," Vasi’s lips quirked. Ransolm burned hot at injustice and she loved him for it.

"That's what critics are for!" he chuckled. He kissed her temple, already imagining how they would meet after leaving tonight’s function. 

Ransolm had 'officially' arrived on Coruscant this morning. In reality, he’d made planetfall last night in time for Vasi and her crew to sneak him backstage to watch her concert from the wings. She'd been full of adrenaline afterward, so then he'd taken her dancing in disguise.

Suralinda had blown a gasket when he'd disappeared—for hours—but Threepio was always able to reach him in case of emergency; Leia's droid kept certain secrets well. He’d managed to calm Sura down, too.

"Have you considered announcing it tonight?" Vasi wondered. At the gala they were about to attend —separately of course—in support of the Joy Foundation. It aided vulnerable children, primarily orphans. Sadly enough there was never a shortage of _those_ in the galaxy. __

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'You think it appropriate?" Ransolm furrowed his brow as he weighed her words.

"What? To recuse yourself from everything _pertaining_ to war orphans at a function dedicated to them? I think it’s perfect, all things considered.”__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Ransolm's gaze grew distant. Then he nodded, almost to himself. "Agreed. Tonight will do very well. Until then.” 

Another kiss and he was gone, his long cloak swirling behind him as he slipped out the door of her hotel suite. He’d asked what colour gown she'd be wearing tonight so his cloak was the same shade. They would match, even if they'd only stand together for a moment or two. Unless--

Hevasi chewed on her lower lip, remembering her makeup before she ruined it. Perhaps it was time another truth saw light.

+

"Everyone wants to save the children," smiled Ransolm from the dais, striking in simple black, this time accented by a dark green evening cloak. That he wore his chain of office was unusual; like the other politicians in attendance, he wasn't here on official business. Only to show his support for an exemplary non-profit—not that choosing to do so wasn’t a statement in itself.

"A pity no one agrees on how best to accomplish it,” he added. That dig was aimed at the debate currently dividing the Senate. For weeks he’d been uncharacteristically silent on the issue.

He moved on to the Joy Foundation’s relative decisiveness, praising its work to the skies, which was only to be expected at a gala supporting its endeavours. The well-heeled crowd glittered in the warm glow of massive, equally glittering Coruscanti crystal chandeliers in the hotel's Grand Ballroom. 

Then Prime Senator Casterfo succeeded in thoroughly shocking his audience:

He removed himself from all debate regarding the so-called 'War Orphans Bill', citing personal reasons he then proceeded to outline—unvarnished. The result was complete, stunned silence. 

"It is therefore with the utmost regret that I recuse myself; I cannot be objective in this matter." With that, he stepped away from the podium and any perceived conflict of interest. 

The room was dead silent save for the tap of heels across the polished marble floors. Hevasi lifted her hem to ascend the podium, the sound of her shoes muffled by the carpeted dais. She gestured for Ransolm to remain exactly where he was. 

Vasi was known as a longtime supporter of the Joy Foundation. Her latest concert series was a high-profile fundraiser on behalf of it, and her surname had always made the connection a mildly amusing play on words. She smiled over her shoulder at Ransolm while the holo and mic droids repositioned themselves.

Ran was well aware that the Joy Foundation was actually the _Hevasi_ Joy Foundation. Launched before the First Order's rise, it was officially directed by Vasi’s half-sister. The siblings had encouraged the assumption that Hevasi Joy was a Joy Foundation ambassador thanks to her older sister’s connection to its anonymous founder. __

_ _ In reality, Vasi had gone to Mina Hoian for advice on how to set up a private foundation to begin with. Mina had driven a hard bargain with recording labels on behalf of her little sister. An overnight sensation, Hevasi had become financially successful well beyond either of their wildest dreams. Mina had invested those earnings brilliantly, taking huge risks but reaping massive profits. __

__ How many private islands did one person need? How much more could Vasi ever have spoiled her nearest and dearest? Thanks to Mina’s wizardry, Hevasi’s personal fortune had grown from decent to impressive to downright shocking. As such, the Foundation's reach was significant. It aimed to step in where planetary government failed, and its latest ambitions included the Outer Rim._ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

Ransolm was astounded when she’d told him of it years ago. It had only made him admire Vasi more. He was pleased it had grown so quickly after the First Order’s fall, again thanks to Mina’s brilliance.

It hadn't hurt that she’d siphoned funds from First Order supporters over the years, though there'd been plenty of controversy when she'd first admitted as much. However, her position as preferred advisor to multiple First Order backers kept the Foundation's holdings untouched during the conflict. 

"Dead in a ditch," Hevasi echoed Ransolm's earlier words; the shock of hearing them hadn’t faded in the minds of their audience. "To think that our very own Prime Senator might have been, were it not for the kindness of others—who had the means to help, and chose to."

Ransolm suspected his heart was in his eyes. He was equally sure what Hevasi meant to do next and was frankly astounded; she was always so guarded with her privacy.

"Your Excellency," Vasi tipped her head in Ransolm's direction. "Ladies and gentlebeings," her gaze swept the ballroom. “We have gathered this evening in support of an organization that strives to step in where others can, or do, not. It is hardly surprising you've graced us with your presence, Prime Senator. For it has been clear from the outset you envision a government that truly serves its people and protects those most need of it."

The room was still dead silent, probably because the only other time Hevasi Joy had spoken publicly she'd landed herself in First Order custody. She gave every sign of being at home before them now though, poised despite the absence of music.

"I expect the prospect of stepping aside and allowing others to determine the fate of legislation so meaningful to you is...difficult,” she continued.

No one in the room had trouble imagining that, not after the way Ransolm had laid the facts down. 

“Let no one here doubt your commitment to the galaxy's most vulnerable. I, for one, do not. It has always been apparent. In fact, it is the reason we are standing here at all."

Ransolm’s breath caught. He was vaguely aware of the audience’s reaction—

Hevasi ignored the murmurs. "Years ago, I met an idealistic young senator. The room was full of strangers and I was doing my best to hide behind a potted palm at the time." That won her a laugh since her general aversion to attention was probably almost as famous as Hevasi. "He spoke to me anyway."

Ransolm would never forget the first time he'd seen her--

"We fell into conversation,” she smiled. “He spoke so eloquently, so passionately, of everything he meant to change."

She glanced over her shoulder at Ransolm and silently willed him nearer. "I was young." Just a girl, uncertain of her purpose.

Ransolm couldn't help but move closer. He stood beside her now—wanting to take her hand, settling for holding her eyes. 

"I’d been recently blessed with what felt like an embarrassment of riches, all for doing what I loved most. Writing. Singing. Performing. What do they matter in the grander scheme of things? I wasn't sure.” Her eyes flitted to Ransolm again. “That young Senator was from Riosa.”

_ __ _

_ __ _

Another murmur ran through the crowd. The beings who hadn’t already connected the dots succeeded.

"I never expected to see him again." Certainly not in a prison uniform, condemned to a gruesome end as a sewage pipe fitter by the regime that wanted him dead in the end. "And I never thought I’d get the chance to tell him...that _he_ sparked the Joy Foundation into existence, that night." __

_ _ Next to a potted palm, when she'd lost part of her heart forever to a pair of blue eyes._ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

Despite her efforts to keep them at bay, tears of emotion welled up. Terrific, she was about to make a fool of herself. She blinked several times before continuing: "Many children have been reached--" Vasi didn't give a number; she didn't have to, everyone present knew the math well enough--'and though circumstances dictate you must recuse yourself from the matter of how best to help the galaxy's most vulnerable orphans, I hope you find a measure of comfort in understanding the role you have already played— Prime Senator."

She'd never, ever told him this--

"In essence, every child the Joy Foundation has ever saved from starvation and misery has _you_ to thank for the inspiration.” She didn’t trust herself to look at him. Instead, she lifted her chin and her eyes swept the crowd. She was doing this to help him, to show him she stood beside him in everything.“Let others see to legislation as they will; you have more than done your part.” Damn, was that a tear escaping from the corner of her eye? She turned to Ransolm after all in hopes that the cams wouldn’t catch it. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Imagine—just imagine—what knowing the truth of their Prime Senator’s origins might mean to other children, those who have little more than hope. How high might they reach, if we help them? Is there any dream they should deny themselves?” 

Then she smiled at her love, bright as any sun he’d ever seen. “Think what they can aspire to now, Prime Senator."

Ransolm found that he could barely speak. "You honour me--" 

She smiled then, radiantly. "I mean to."

The room burst into thunderous applause.

+

"When's the wedding?” Tar crowed, slapping his knee as he sprawled on the couch in his hotel room. "Do you see this, Rosie?”

Rose tilted her head via their holo link. She was still on Corellia, where she’d spent all day conferring with ship designers. The grav-ball season was in full swing, the reason Tar had missed the ship dedication ceremony. Rose had no idea what Tar was carrying on about and his monitor wasn't in his holo field to help her figure it out. 

"Who?"

"Ran! And Joy!” Tar laughed again, genuinely pleased. “Why didn’t he get down on his knees and pop the question then and there? Force alive, the look on his face--!"

"What?” Rose squeaked. “They let it spill?" After three months of sneaking around?

"No. But yes—sort of. First, _he_ gets up there and sings TJF’s praises at that gala. Looking all lovesick, and probably making eyes at _her_ half the time. Couldn’t tell from the cam angles. ____

__

__

_ _ Then, he goes and spits out his history—all of it—so people get why he’s recusing himself from that orphan bill. Everybody’s shocked as hell. __

__ Then Vasi gets up beside him and spills the beans on the foundation. Guess she’s forgotten how much she hates anybody knowing anything about her.” Or she was testing out how it felt to share a different kind of spotlight while backing Ransolm as best she could?_ _

“Then she goes and tells him _he's_ the reason she ever _started_ TJF. That part I didn’t know—don’t think he did either.” __

_ __ _

_ __ _

__

__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Rose sighed, shaking her head fondly at her madly grinning husband. "So you’re joking about the wedding?"

"Wait—wait—“ Tar held up a hand. “Charth just commed me. Two words—‘four months.’ Does he mean the wedding or the proposal? Wait—Sura’s sent me a message too—‘Six months tops.’ They must be discussing this.”

“_Another_ bet?” Rose crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. __

_ _ “Yep.”_ _

_ _ “Prediction?” _ _

_ _ “Any day now.”_ _

_ __ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Winshur read [the list] carefully, trying to match names with faces. He paused over a familiar name and scanned the prisoners. There she was. An auburn-haired woman in a dull-gray jumpsuit. She looked hollowed out, empty, her brown skin pale from lack of sunlight and her eyes cast toward the ground. He was sure she was Hevasi Joy, that singer who had openly opposed the First Order on the entertainment feeds, condemning them for the destruction of Hosnian Prime and calling for people to join the Resistance. Well, it was a pity to see her come to this...’
> 
> ‘“I assume you have an appropriate assignment for Prisoner 876549C?”
> 
> Winshur did indeed. 
> 
> “Sewage pipe fitter in the shipyard, sir,” Winshur offered. “Filthy work. With a high accident rate. Pipes have been known to slip and allow those crawl spaces to fill with lethal gas. According to employment records, we’ve lost a dozen people that way since the yards were recommissioned by the First Order.”
> 
> ~Rebecca Roanhorse, ‘Resistance Reborn’


	43. Chapter 43

Waves lapped gently at the shoreline in the clear morning light. The day would be fair and perfect for sailing.

Hevasi wrung the water from her hair as she came ashore, smiling at the picture before her. Only three months older than the first time he’d visited Estrella, Aren was noticeably taller. He chattered away to Ran as he picked up a fish star stranded by the tide and saw it to the ocean.

Ransolm stooped to do the same. The stranded creatures were strewn along the length of the beach, but neither seemed to regard their mission as hopeless.

Master Sky Walker followed at a distance with his hands tucked into his sleeves. He paused to pop a fish star into his mouth, peeking over his shoulder at Vasi with a sheepish grin. She gave a little shrug in return, somehow not surprised. Then he trailed after Ransolm and Aren again. Which was odd. Like her, he made a point of giving them time alone.

Vasi towelled off from her dip and lay back on her lounger. She flicked on her datapad, content to let the morning sun finish drying her off as she caught up on some reading. 

Ransolm hadn't joined her for their usual swim, not that she minded the view. She thought him especially handsome in that white linen shirt. He wore it open at the collar with the sleeves rolled up. It was awfully warm for trousers but he hadn’t opted for shorts. For whatever reason, he _was_ wearing the chrono she'd gifted him. What about a morning walk merited anything so formal as that belt, those shoes and perfectly pressed trousers? __

_ __ _

_ __ _

Aren was protesting about something. He probably wasn't finished with the fish stars, but Ransolm seemed to have other plans. Aren's Master made an uncharacteristic intervention, stetching out his three-fingered hand--

To send dozens of sea stars rising from the beach. They hovered in midair until Aren's attention was fully on his Master. One by one, the stars slipped safely into the water. 

Vasi thought she must have looked like a fish herself with her mouth gaping open like it was. Unlike many, she _knew_ the Force was real. Still, casual use of it right in front of her was...a lot. __

_ _ What other lessons was Ransolm's son learning? Sometimes it was difficult to remember how different his development was compared to a human child’s, even without Force-giftedness thrown in._ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

She turned her attention back to her novel as father and son settled in to build what would probably end up as another sand palace. Aren’s efforts resulted in squashed towers more often than not, but that was half the fun. Ransolm considered it his duty to make sure his boy had fun.

"Look!" 

Hevasi glanced up from her reading. Aren raced her way clutching something in his hand with Ransolm hard at his heels, all semblance of senatorial dignity gone. But Aren tripped on a beach toy and wiped out. He lost his prize in the sand, and when he found it again he made a face. Then he promptly flung the 'treasure' in the ocean. 

Ransolm swore and dashed to the water’s edge but Aren stretched his hand toward the water like his Master had done with the sea stars. In another heartbeat the lost ‘treasure’ _floated_— floated!—in the air. Ransolm stopped clutching at his hair. He laughed in relief, sounding almost giddy. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

"All clean!" Aren announced. His prize sailed to his hand and with a triumphant grin he resumed his march toward Hevasi, who scooped him up when he reached his target.

"That was amazing!" she exclaimed. “How did you _do_ that?" What a milestone, and how proud Ransolm must be. He was beaming at both of them, and Vasi was happy to have shared in the moment. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

Aren grinned. Then he opened his fist to reveal his 'treasure': a fire diamond of Mustafar, the last thing anyone would 'find' on a beach. He was holding a ring.

"I wanted him to share in this,” Ran’s voice was as soft as his expression. “We’re something of a package deal, he and I.” Force knew he was grateful he’d never had to choose between spending time with Aren or Hevasi, who'd offered her home as a meeting place from the start. 

For a moment Vasi only stared at the diamond. Master Sky Walker ushered his young charge off, his 'mission' accomplished. She and Ransolm were alone. Together.

"I hope it’s to your liking.” Ransolm took her hand. “And I hope you'll wear it as you consider. It's yours to keep, no matter your answer." Not every world shared the tradition of engagement rings like Riosa and Estrella.

"You’re asking—“

"Too much, I’m sure!" Ransolm blurted, shaking his head, as if he couldn’t believe he was asking at all. "How is it fair to expect you to leave this?" Her home. Her world. In a word, paradise. A haven for him now too, where Aren was always welcome. "For if your answer is yes, I would ask that you do.” There were few concessions he could make, at least in terms of geography. “It feels wrong of me--selfish on some level.“ 

_ __ _

_ __ _

"Truly?” Hevasi arched a brow as the man she loved argued circles around himself.

"My term is four years; you’re well aware. I’d always planned to run for another.” 

"I sincerely hope you do." It was his place. Ransolm was exactly where he ought to be and doing what he should.

Their fingers laced together with the diamond in Vasi's palm. "I would hate for you to feel trapped,” Ran continued. “Or if you came to resent your decision. Do you think you could be happy? On an uninspiring ball of salt that no one thought to live on until now?"

_ __ _

_ __ _

"Storm season lasts four standard months on Estrella." Those storms were wild and he knew how much she hated them. Hevasi passed the ring to Ran with a smile he couldn’t mistake. “That’s four months I wouldn’t be here anyway.” She couldn’t stand being trapped—not behind the island’s storm shields. 

Taking on a new role was another matter. She’d love the travelling aspect that came with Ransolm’s job, the prospect of acting as political hostess was increasingly appealing, and she was plenty used to putting her game face on when it mattered, which it would as never before. Her parents would not be surprised; they'd always predicted her career path would somehow lead her to politics. 

“We’ll come here often, Ransolm. Just as you and Aren do now. And perhaps it's time to consider your plans for your property on Riosa.” The house was long gone, and all that remained were the trees. And memories.

“They say you can never go back—“ began Ransolm.

“True...but you _can_ start again,” Vasi reminded him. Why else had he sought title to that particular property? __

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

"Your career--"

"Is changing. You know that too.” They’d discussed it often enough. “My interests--the foundation, my writing, composing. Is there a particular reason I couldn’t pursue them on Crait?" 

Seeing Ransolm every day, sharing a beautiful, light-filled space he'd insisted she guide him in furnishing? Complete with a music room he'd given her free reign in designing? All for Aren, or so he'd _said._ She adored the boy and already thought of him as the child she'd never have.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

"The life of a political spouse can be sheer hell, for so many reasons--"

Vasi folded his fingers around the fire diamond. “Are you asking me?”

"Yes. If you think you could be happy." 

"The truth is, I'm only unhappy when you leave." 

Ransolm thought he’d remember the moment until the day he died. The way the sun played over Vasi's features and gilded her curls, even if it felt like jumping off a cliff. "Will you have me?”

Tears welled up in Vasi's green-flecked eyes. "I'd marry you _today,_ Ransolm Casterfo.” Idiot man, how could he doubt it? She held out her hand, he slipped the ring into place, and the stone caught tropical sun and flashed its fire. Both of them were laughing by the time she flung her arms around his neck and their lips met to seal their agreement.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

"You're serious about the timeline?" Ran cocked a brow. A familiar mischief danced in his eyes with the last of his doubts erased. “I’d marry you here and now of course, but it shall all be exactly as you wish.” He grinned, thinking she’d prefer small, intimate ceremony. 

"Today?” she teased, with an impish grin of her own. “Why not? Then I wouldn’t have to watch you leave."

She was serious? Force knew he was. “Excellent!” Ransolm smiled so hard his face hurt.

_ __ _

_ __ _

"But not like this." Hevasi eyed Ransolm appraisingly, making no secret of her appreciation for the view. “You’ll do well enough as you are, but I refuse to marry anyone in my bathing suit!” Laughter bubbled up from what felt like her toes.

_ __ _

_ __ _

"Very well." Delighted, Ransolm dusted the sand from his trousers. He hadn't realized he'd knelt. "Shall I ready the boat?" He'd be quick about it, too. 

Hevasi smirked, thinking someone must have told him about the priest. The island he lived on wasn’t far. Finn? Poe? Rose? Most likely Tar. "You're out of your mind," she laughed. 

"Ah, but you love me for my mind," Ransolm winked. 

“We’re throwing a party later, or we’ll never hear the end of it!” Vasi called over her shoulder as she dashed for the villa and a proper set of clothes. 

“Agreed!” he chuckled, mentally starting a guest list as he headed for the boat.

Ransolm's eyes crinkled as he smiled up at the multicoloured sail of the catamaran, his thoughts flashing for a moment to the sunsail races back on Hosnian Prime— to Leia—_“May you get absolutely everything in life that you deserve.”_ Cutting words, flung in anger, all so very long ago.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

He couldn't imagine deserving _this_, skimming over the waves with the wind in his hair, a love like sunshine by his side. Vasi was at the helm, auburn curls flying in the salt spray and the skirts of her pretty white sundress billowing around her legs in the sea breeze.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

She was teaching him to sail; he was teaching her to fly.

The catamaran was light and nimble and they made excellent time. They pulled their vessel ashore, getting somewhat wetter than they’d hoped in the process but laughing the whole time. The island had no wharf, so it couldn’t have been helped. 

Hand in hand and barefoot, Ransolm Casterfo and Hevasi Joy ascended a narrow, winding pathway leading to a windswept plateau overlooking Estrella's azure seas; so many shades of blue, all on one world.

A priest of the Church of the Force awaited, almost as if he'd expected them.

+


	44. Chapter 44

Major Harter Kalonia attended two births the same day. The first required total suspension of disbelief, and past abuse by the First Order made the second about as likely as snow on Tatooine.

The impossible child was a boy born to Rey of Jakku, whose eyes were as ancient as she was young. Master Skywalker named her son for his grandfather. Young Han arrived with a full head of hair and a fine pair of lungs, much as his father had decades earlier. Harter remembered; she'd delivered Ben Solo. 

The infant girl made her appearance later that morning and had her father wrapped around her finger before she grabbed his.

"What shall we call her?" Emotion seldom overwhelmed Ransolm but this moment did in the best possible sense.

"Leia,” Hevasi remembered.

“Agreed.” Ransolm tenderly kissed his wife and kissed his daughter too; he'd tell her he loved her every day of his life. 

_ __ _

_ __ _

+

Leia Joy Casterfo grew up with tales of princesses and pilots, Jedi and golden-hearted smugglers. She learned to shoot a blaster by the time she was eight and excelled at hand-to-hand combat—even if her friends thought that a little strange. She loved stories, history especially, and sang her heart out as she played the klavier. She played the valachord, too. The man who'd helped save her parents from Corellia had loved to play the valachord. 

One day Leia would meet another Temmin Wexley. He’d be tall and dark and favour his mother in his colouring but his father in almost everything else. Temmin was brilliant, and head of development at Calrissian Enterprises by the time he and Leia met. One of the first things he’d tell her? That _his_ mother still treasured the piece of scrap hers had once inscribed with a poem for Snap. __

The night Leia brought Temmin home for dinner, Ransolm would recall that sometimes there was no such thing as coincidence.

But that was very much in the future.

+

Leia Casterfo grew up with a brother who adored her.

Aren floated toys above her crib to make her laugh and would heal her scrapes--the ones on her knees. They got into plenty of others together.

"What were you _thinking?_" Ransolm flung his arms out in disbelief. "Bypassing Senate security?" On a whim? On a weekend? "Fooling around in the pods! Has the Chamber become your personal amusement park? You could have been killed, both of you!" __

_ _ _ _Aren was in the hot seat and his sister clung to his hand, not making so much as a peep. She was five and he was seven, though Aren looked older and usually acted it. He was nearly Ransolm's height already and lanky like a completely human teenager._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _"Have you asked whose idea it was?" Hevasi murmured, touching Ransolm’s sleeve. Her husband’s hair was greying at the temples by now but there was more than enough of it to tear out over these two. Ran blinked, a sure sign he was counting to a dozen in his head-- the Chamber couldn’t do to him what this pair managed. ____

_ _ _ Vasi arched a brow, crossed her arms and fixed her gaze on the culprits. She knew her children. So did her husband, though he couldn't bring himself to discipline his daughter--ever. His son? Yes. Leia? Never, though she suspected other people’s princesses might have similar effects on their fathers._ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ _ _"I would never let anything happen to Leia!" Offended, Aren’s eyes flashed with indignation._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Vasi sighed. “True. But suppose your calculations had been incorrect? Your strategy or execution flawed?” Not bloody likely; the boy gave Maz a run for her money in the hacking department, and Threepio’s droid network was no doubt part of this mess. “How would that have reflected on your family?" ____

Leia looked at the floor. Aren flushed in the Chiss manner, telling Hevasi he’d more than gotten the message. He recovered quickly though, squaring his shoulders and looking his parents in the eye: "My sincere apologies; it was a serious lapse in judgment. As the eldest, I should have known better and behaved accordingly. I shall meditate on this."

___ “After you report to head of security,” said Ransolm firmly, arms crossed. The boy needed to walk the experts through exactly what he’d done _this_ time. Ransolm wasn’t sure who’d be more embarrassed: his son or his head of security. Thankfully the droids involved had been the sole witnesses, although he dreaded having to report the breach to the Executive Council. With any luck, they’d roll their eyes and deem it ‘Classified’. Aren gave his parents a bow before departing; he took such matters seriously._ _ _

_ _ _ _Which left Leia. Who squirmed._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _"It was my idea," she admitted. "I thought it would be fun. He said it would be easy." It had been--for a boy who'd inherited more than one trait from the most brilliant Chiss tactician in living memory. Fortunately, Leia decided she owed her brother an apology. After the obvious parental conversation, she went off to try and catch him. ____

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ _ _Vasi leaned into Ransolm, who slipped his arm around her waist. “What are we going to do with them?” Her shoulders started shaking. Ransolm’s did the same, and with the truants out of earshot both of them burst out laughing. ____

_ _ _ “Part of me was mortified. Part of me was proud!” Ransolm confessed, shaking his head and wondering if he could pass the kerfuffle off as an 'unofficial' test of security measures. Covering it up was unthinkable._ _ _

_ _ _ "The Senate's greatest 'threat' to security—the Prime Senator’s seven-year-old,” smirked Vasi, knowing Ransolm's initial fears about the risk his son might pose to the Alliance had never resembled _this._ Fortunately, Aren didn’t pull stunts very often. “Zipping around in those pods like that--at least you can’t fall out."_ _ _ __

_ _ _ _"A little -known fact,” said Ran dryly, wondering if he might use his pod’s emergency override to make a point about the decraniated; they were a horrifying example of abuses the Senate was working to stamp out. Not even someone intent on leaping out of an official pod could actually manage it._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _An idea came to Vasi as well, who narrowed her green-flecked eyes. “Too many people hate politics.” Ransolm knew that better than most. “You have to admit that official tours are a bit...dull. Especially for children. Would they be any more engaged if they got to float around in hoverpods at the same time? They can't compete with X-wings or TIEs, but still—you have to admit the view is spectacular.” _ _ _ _

_ __ _

_ _  
“X-wings and TIEs are sometimes easier to conduct business in,” smiled Ransolm, recalling the simple satisfaction of blowing something up. Flying was less dizzying in more ways than one. _ _

__ How many senators would agree to letting their personal pods be used in such a fashion? Forty or fifty out of thousands would be easy enough to arrange. He’d volunteer his own at once, even before the requisite security assessment. School groups were often bored to tears at the _mention_ of the word 'Senate', not that most people weren’t. Was turning the Chamber into an amusement park a useful notion after all? Or would everybody end up dizzy? Then again, if those kids didn't hear a word their guides said at least their eyes wouldn't glaze over._ _

_ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _+_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _When Leia was seven, it was agreed that Aren would accompany her to school as part of her project on the Unknown Regions. By that time he was privy to secrets no one in her galaxy could possibly have imagined but knew better than to reveal them to anyone._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Leia's teacher had expected their guest to be a blue-skinned nine-year-old. What she _got_ was a charming, strikingly attractive, two-metre-tall near-human male who chauffeured his sister to school in the Prime Senator's vintage speeder and succeeded in making her blush when he greeted her. _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Leia's young, uncharacteristically flustered teacher couldn’t know how vividly Aren’s enhanced senses told him of her confusion. He didn’t need the Force to gauge her reaction to him. The children who'd met him before were happy to see him again, but a few of Leia's classmates were nervous --at first. ____

___ Allies or not, Prime Senator's son or not, the Chiss had a reputation. Aren set about winning them over by making things float--even his sister. The lightsaber at his belt counted for a lot, especially when he flipped it on and the blade shone even bluer than his skin. A Chiss—and a Jedi!—how much fun was _that?__ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Leia’s big brother had a voice like velvet and spun tales of creatures and worlds and starscapes in a galaxy the children had never seen. He called it ‘The Chaos,’ which sounded even better than ‘The Unknown Regions’ or ‘Wild Space.’ ____

_ __ Their questions came thick and fast: _Is it true you can see in the dark? Are you that much faster than a human? Are Chiss blasters cool? Can you show us one? And what about the ships?_ Somebody’s uncle had seen one during the Grysk War. __ _ __

___ Aren had the more curious touch his hand if they wanted to feel for themselves how much cooler than a human he ran. Only two other species in Leia’s class had basal temperatures as low. The class was more diverse than most, of course, because Leia's was an intergalactic school attended mostly by children of diplomats. Everybody on Crait was an off-worlder._ _ _

_ _ _ _Then someone raised a hand to ask about the Grysk and Aren's silvery-blue face darkened. "You do not wish to know of the Grysk." His words chilled the room. “Nor should you fear them,” he added, sensing the unease he’d created and berating himself for forgetting himself. He took care that his next words sounded commanding and authoritative. In this case, reassurance was best. "The Chiss monitor the Grysk, as we do all threats to the Ascendancy. Your galaxy has its watchers, too—the Masters Skywalker." ____

___ Then mischief twinkled in Aren Casterfo’s bright blue eyes. He grinned, leaned forward as if sharing a great secret. “‘Skywalker’ translates as ‘force-gifted’ in the language of the Chiss!” Then he winked. "Tell your parents! Your Jedi are Sentinels, as am I. We grow in number. You need not fear the Grysk. Not while we keep watch.” _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _+_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _She wasn't the only Leia in her school; there were Poes and Finns too, and even a Rose and a Ransolm. But Leia Joy Casterfo figured she was probably the only Leia whose father liked to do her hair. ____

___ Which was a good thing, because then she had him all to herself. Papa liked to tell her stories as he twisted her waves into styles as interesting as anything a nanny droid could manage-- when his schedule let him. He’d brush it out at bedtime too, if he could sneak that in before an evening function. She wished there weren’t so many of those._ _ _

_ _ _ _Early one morning, Ransolm's caramel-haired, green-eyed princess bounded into the kitchen, chattering a mile a minute to her mother about the biography presentation she'd prepared _all by herself_ the night before. After all, Leia Casterfo considered herself something of an authority on her celebrated namesake. ____

_ _ __ _ _

_ __ _

Her eyes lit up when she found her papa still at the breakfast table. With his first meeting of the day rescheduled, Threepio hovered at his elbow recording notes. But Ransolm pushed his datapad aside when Vasi and Leia joined them. 

_ _ _ _“You’re still here--excellent!” Leia swooped in for a hug and politely greeted Threepio, taking the seat next to her father and helping herself to some fruit juice. "What do you think of my hair? N-E did it 'specially for today.” She explained her presentation, the inspiration for the large bun on either side of her head. Threepio pronounced it historically accurate, Mama declared it nicely done, but Ransolm smirked._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _"Hmm...that looks...complicated. How well can you hear, with your ears covered up like that?" His eyes danced with the mischief his daughter adored._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _"Papa— honestly!" Leia didn't particularly care for the hairstyle, but sacrifices had to be made for the sake of _'historical accuracy.'_____

_ _ __ _ _

_ __ _

"It's honesty you're after?" Leia's expression told Ransolm that poking fun was more than fair game. "_Honestly_, I think your head bears an alarming resemblance to...a TIE fighter," he deadpanned, prompting Hevasi to snort and spill her caf. __

_ _ Leia tried to muster all the indignation a nine-year-old was capable of but couldn’t keep from grinning. "You would never have told her that! Besides, tastes change. Everybody knows this is Princess Leia's most _iconic _ look!"_ _ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

Which he'd never once seen her wear in real life. “Agreed,” Ransolm’s lips twitched. “But I might have asked her why she was wearing pastries on her head." His grin broke out. “Very large pastries. Care for one?" And he handed her a platter of buttersweet puffs. 

Leia’s green eyes sparkled as she bit into her puff. Papa’s crepes were more than good but nothing compared to the Casterfo kitchen droid. Uncle Lando’s programming was amazing, and everywhere they travelled meant another tasty update. 

_ _ _ _"Shall I give you a lift this morning, Your Highness?” Ransolm quirked a brow._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _"In the DB-5?” Leia could hardly wait to be old enough to earn her permit. Lucky Aren started flying ages ago, and driving even earlier. Sometimes it stunk being totally human._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _+_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _"Sabacc, hoversled chases, blowing things up, all manner of disguises. Dancing, Ivarujari noodles, even a lightsaber --Leia, this is certainly a ..._colourful_ biography presentation," came her teacher's comment a few hours later. "Although you haven't listed your primary sources for any of that information." _ _ _ _ __

_ _ _ _Papa didn't count so she hadn't added him to her list. "You mean something I could put in the bibliography?" Leia wrinkled her nose, considering. _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Apparently someone had to write a book._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _+_ _ _ _

Listening behind closed doors was beyond rude but Leia decided she was justified. Aren was fretting, and Aren didn’t worry about much. Why would he? He was big and strong and brave and brilliant and a Jedi on top of it all. He did important things for the Chiss all the time, though he kept a lower profile in this galaxy. 

Aren, Mama, Papa, Aren’s mother, his uncle, and his Master were in Papa’s study. It was Leia’s favourite place in the house here on Riosa, brimming with objects and art from what had to be every corner of the galaxy; Papa was quite the collector. Leia loved playing chess—real chess, not holo —by the windows overlooking the oldest tree in the garden. The antique set they used was a gift from Maz Kanata. 

Leia leaned her ear against the wooden door. Unlike their villa on Estrella or their apartments back on Crait, everything here was built of stone or wood or glass, and the tiles of the floor were cool against her palms. 

“This is the way.” Aren’s Master was small and fun, and he liked to fly—fast. Which Leia approved of wholeheartedly. Everybody usually listened to him, not that he spoke very often. 

“Not the Chiss way!” Aren’s mother's voice came next. Sinine was gorgeous and always wore the most interesting clothing. She was kind of bossy but nice enough. Leia was almost used to her glowy red eyes, and the kohlen crystal bracelet she'd gifted Leia for her last birthday was seriously cool.

Leia couldn’t catch much of anything else for a very long stretch because everybody spoke so softly. Enhanced Chiss senses would definitely have come in handy. But then Aren said “TBD.” 

“To. Be. Determined.” Sinine enunciated each syllable like she had a bad taste in her mouth. “By whom?”

“Temiri Blagg Dameron,” Papa corrected her, apparently catching on, but not sounding a whole lot happier. “Are Master Finn and the Admiral aware of this plan?” 

The Damerons had fostered Temiri after the liberation of the slaves on Canto Bight, eventually adopting him. Leia had been in awe of Temiri since the moment he’d lifted her onto a Fathier's back on Uncle Tar and Aunt Rose’s ranch— _before_ he’d started training as a Jedi. __

_ _ Aren had told Leia that he and his Master and Temiri planned to go in search of his Master’s people. It would involve a journey deep into the Chaos, one he was pretty sure none of the adults in his life would be crazy about. From the sounds of it, he’d guessed right._ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Reckless!” Sinine again. 

Papa was chuckling about that much being ‘in the genes’. “What did you think you were getting, Sinine?” He sounded amused, but Sinine wasn’t.

Then Aren blurted something about being an ‘experiment.’ In fact, he erupted. Mama and his uncle tried to calm him down but the next thing Leia knew, he came barging through the door in a temper. 

The fact that he’d nearly run her over wasn’t a good sign. Leia ducked into the next room, hoping nobody would notice her spying. With her luck, Sinine would catch her with those heat-seeking Chiss eyeballs of hers. Leia decided the rose garden was a much better option.

Knowing Aren, he was heading outside anyway. 

\+ 

“It’s bothered you this much, all this time.” Hevasi’s voice was gentle as she joined Aren on the soft carpet of moss beneath his favourite tree. It was Ransolm’s, too. His study overlooked the gnarled giant. Nearly a thousand years old, it leaned out over the river defining the edge of the Casterfo property. Like nearly everything else here on Riosa, its waters had been badly polluted for more than a generation. Against all odds, the tree had survived.

Aren leaned into Vasi as her arm circled his waist. “I said it in anger. I shouldn’t have,” he admitted. The catalyst for his reaction had been the reference to his origins-- not any discussion of his future plans. But he was embarrassed at how he'd brought it up.

“It can’t be easy, bridging two civilizations.” Vasi was of mixed human race and in some quarters that led to problems enough. “Your mother didn’t mean exactly what she said, Aren.” She smoothed a lock of hair from his eyes. Other than its colour it was very like Ransolm’s. 

“You’re the opposite of irresponsible. You’ve never shirked your duties. You’re a Sentinel. A Mitth. You’re an asset to your people. Your peoples,” she reminded him. “And you’ve already performed great services for the Ascendancy.” Not that Hevasi was permitted to know the specifics but she’d made her peace with that long ago.

“To the Chiss, I’m somewhat immature for my age.” In terms of his emotional development, that was. Vasi and Ransolm were constantly reminded that he was very much the opposite to them. Yet in both galaxies his body was that of an adult--which led to its own challenges.

But that wasn’t the reason Aren was sitting under a tree instead of discussing his future with the adults most invested in it. 

“You’re right, though. It bothers me,” he admitted. How could Papa make light of it? It had come as a shock to hear him tease Mother about it. “I feel like a blight on my father’s reputation,” he said hollowly. Just like Papa's takedown of Leia Organa, though that was a topic closed to discussion. "I hate that I wasn't intended by both of them.” 

Even if the circumstances had apparently been ...mutually agreeable, in another respect. Much as he'd tried to ignore it, Aren had heard himself referred to as the Prime Senator's freakish, half-Chiss by-blow. Thousands of sentient species were represented in the Chamber, but that didn’t mean the Chiss weren’t 'The Other'. The unknown, the enigma that made people nervous. Never mind how he stood out amongst the Chiss themselves. “The truth is, I was born of nothing but a—“

“No,” said Vasi sharply. “Don’t think of it like that.” Aren seldom heard that tone, especially not from Hevasi. “Your father understands your mother’s motivation well enough. He’ll admit that he didn’t at first. But she acted in hopes of aiding her people. There is honour in that,” she said firmly.

“But Papa—“

“Has always regarded you as the gift that you are, as you well know!” Aren looked away, striking her as more of a troubled adolescent than the Jedi Sentinel he was becoming-- let alone whatever he already was to the Chiss. 

“I do. I know that. Foolish as it may seem, there are times I wish I was born of something more, that’s all.” He pulled at a blade of grass and avoided Vasi's gaze. “For Leia is born of love.” And she had always known it. 

The sister in question called to someone from the rose garden on the sunny southern side of the house. Roses flourished here on Riosa, and several varieties rambled up the warm stone walls of the main house. Leia was probably taking Sinine to the nearby apiary. Bees were a marvel to Sinine, as were roses. Csilla had neither and she enjoyed both. 

_ _ Vasi's head leaned against Aren’s shoulder as the two of them watched the sun paint the sky and the silvery band of the river in pinks and golds. A person could watch a thousand sunsets and never tire of the transformation. Riosa's moon would soon be visible, just above the treeline. __

_ _ “Your father _was_ seeking something when he met your mother, Aren--_ _

__

__

_ _ “More than alliances in the Outer Rim." Aren tried to make a joke of that but failed._ _

_ _ Vasi hesitated, considering how much to reveal and how best to phrase it. “It may be difficult to imagine, but your father was a wreck after Exegol. Shattered. Not that he speaks of it.” Honesty was best. “He was far too well-acquainted with loss by then." But far from alone in that. "You will meet people who touch your life, Aren. Who alter it profoundly," she said softly. "And the--she was more than a person to him. I think he loved her more than himself, for a time.” _ _

__ She registered Aren’s confusion. “That’s what you were born of--from a certain point of view. I hope you can forgive him for wanting to...connect, on some level. Just as I hope you understand your mother’s need to be of service to her people. She defended him. You know that. She saved your father's life, as surely as he ever saved hers. More than this is not my story to tell, love." Every heart had its secrets. Hevasi got to her feet, kissing the top of Aren’s head as she had since he was small. She couldn’t reach it otherwise, not now that he towered over her. “Here comes your father now.”_ _

The fine gravel of the garden path crunched beneath Ransolm's boots he drew nearer, hands folded behind his back and his demeanour subdued. Mama met him on the path; they reached for each other as they so often did. For a little while they spoke, their heads close together.

Ransolm Casterfo and Hevasi Joy—surely half the galaxy knew that love story. How they’d first met on Hosnian Prime, then years later in prison on Corellia; how they were rescued together, how they’d reunited after the war. Aren had seen footage of the night Mama had stepped off that stage and into Papa’s arms. Mother had been at the same party, less than an hour earlier. Aren had been an infant--tucked away on a ship docked on a landing platform in the Senate complex.

Their romance had been conducted in secret but their mutual regard was not, and Aren couldn’t conceive of a couple more supportive of one another. Unless they were in public they were openly affectionate and always had been. Their home was filled with laughter, their marriage was a happy one, and the light the two of them made together sang in the Force. 

Aren was still thinking about that when his father joined him, stretching out on the moss and sedge beneath the great tree. They spoke for awhile, mostly about Aren’s plans but eventually about what had driven him out of the room. It was a good conversation. Aren intended to speak with his mother next.

The moon rose, full and mirror bright this night, though the sun hadn’t quite finished setting. Aren gave a sharp intake of breath at the memory that prompted—

Of opening the locked drawer of the desk in his father’s study, years ago, back when he’d been young and almost impossibly curious. Leia hadn’t been with him and the quest had been his own. The datapad had been the only item in the drawer, and that alone had piqued his curiosity. He'd picked it up, bypassing the encryption—he’d been in that phase—before scrolling through the contents at random. 

_\--and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you—“_

_ _His father’s beautiful baritone voice, made for poetry—he’d been reading aloud in the recording— _ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

_“Have you no regard for privacy?”_

_ _ That was all his father had said. His face--a wall of emotion had slammed into his son. Aren had known he’d overstepped but hadn’t understood. His hacking days had come to an end then and there, and he'd never attempted it again except in service to others. _ _

_ _  
_ _

When he glanced at his father this time, Papa was gazing up at the moon, and Aren had to wonder what memories it held for him.

“She’s told you,” said Ransolm softly. As if he'd read his thoughts. “And I ask that you keep it to yourself. At least for the time being.”

Aren cast about with his feelings, still confused, still wondering how there was room for anybody else in the story he always thought he'd known. His mother and his father-- that was hard enough to slot into the story of Hevasi and Ransolm. But there had once been someone else? Aren wondered at the identity of whatever mysterious woman still inspired such powerful emotions in his father. He could feel it, so he risked it: “Who was she—the one you were trying to forget when you met Mother?”

"Forget her?” Papa was well and truly surprised, his eyes alight. “I live for what she stood for." Then his lips curved into a smile. "Or perhaps I stand for what she lived for.” 

He glanced over his shoulder to where Hevasi and Leia were walking hand in hand across the lawn. Sinine was beside them, a posy of roses in hand. Another rose was tucked behind Leia’s ear, but Ransolm’s eyes were for his wife. “I wasn’t the one to name your sister, Aren. She knows me so well.”

Then he raised his eyes to the skies, where the sun and moon shone together for just a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +
> 
> ‘and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant  
and whatever a sun will always sing is you...’
> 
> ~E.E. Cummings (e.e.cummings)
> 
> (The next line reads: ‘here is the deepest secret nobody knows...)
> 
> And unless Chiss standard years are a much different length than 'galactic standard ', the whole deal about Aren's aging etc. is totally off, now that I've read 'Chaos Rising'. I remember it being suggested that Thrawn was only 8 standard years old when he dealt with Palps etc. though he looked like an adult human, or something like that. Whoops!


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little fic now has art! Can you believe it?! Just in time for the end. The amazingly talented lily_hpb has painted a Leia/Ransolm. I have to figure out how to embed it, but for now you can see it by going to:
> 
> https://pin.it/7t0J94G or by typing in the title “Leia and Ransolm” here on AO3. Check out lily_hpb on tumblr for her beautiful SW pieces, especially if you’re a fan of Ben Solo.
> 
> Thanks for the shout-out, V! :D
> 
> Time to wrap this up.

+

"This might wake you up.” The Togruta nudged his bleary-eyed companion, a human female who couldn’t function without a jolt of caf so early in the morning. 

A tall, distinguished human male had just entered the lecture hall alongside their instructor. Professor Leia Casterfo was the youngest professor of any species at the University of Chandrila, pretty much the youngest anywhere. She’d warned them not sleep in this morning, joking that she’d take it as an insult if they were late for this lecture--one devoted to her namesake. Even on the day before exams, they ought to have expected something like this. Professor Leia had a reputation for surprises, especially when it came to guest speakers. 

_ __ _

_ __ _

Her father hadn’t been seen in years. Didn’t he live on that island? Or somewhere on Riosa? He'd vanished from the public eye after returning from the Chiss. Invited to become the galaxy’s first—and only-- ‘special envoy’ to the Ascendancy once his third term expired, Casterfo was said to live for duty. Would he do it again and stand for re-election like so many hoped?

There was no mistaking him, even with a shock of white hair. The last of the credit chips dropped into place for sleepier souls in the early-morning history class, and the auditorium quieted. 

Casterfo took his daughter’s place behind the lectern. His gaze swept his youthful audience as mic and cam droids whirred into position around him, and in another moment his image filled the monitors. He had Leia’s trick of seeming to meet every eye— or rather, his daughter had his.

Age had not diminished Casterfo’s presence, not that he was terribly old. Clad all in black and a cloak of dove grey, he didn't need a chain of office to command attention. His tall, willowy daughter had definitely inherited her stature from him, along with that undeniable presence. Not that Leia’s famous mother hadn’t been blessed with the same. 

_ __ _

_ __ _

Fitting that the honourable Ransolm Casterfo addressed them today. How many times had he sung Organa’s praises? Dedicated some monument or other to her memory over the years? 

Few alive had known the Princess personally. Casterfo’s pre-war denunciation of Organa aside, supposedly they’d been close. First his rival, then his colleague and finally his General, Ransolm Casterfo had been among those his daughter consulted when researching her groundbreaking biography of the late galactic heroine. 

The culmination of those efforts had been published a mere three days ago, with Ransolm Casterfo credited as an editor. 

Father and daughter exchanged a fond glance before Leia settled herself in the front row with all the grace of a dancer. Ever the picture of elegance, her all-white ensemble set off her gorgeous skin, which reminded the Togrutan of the caf his companion sipped so gingerly. The hall's overhead lights lent their professor’s intricately styled hair a decidedly golden gleam. 

Casterfo began without introduction. "Good morning,” he smiled. “It is truly an honour to stand before you. For today we speak of Leia Organa, Princess of Alderaan--and the single most remarkable person I have ever known." 

+

What someone’s heart was full of, the tongue would always sing of, or so the saying went. But politicians talked all day, and the likes of this one could no doubt wax poetic on an insulated caf mug. Or bootstrap. Or paper napkin, like the one the Togruta’s seatmate was using to mop up the caf she'd just spilled. 

__ Asking Casterfo to talk about a napkin would probably give him far too much to work with. Hadn't he been framed for that 'Napkin Bombing'? Interesting that Organa's biography hadn't revealed who'd written 'RUN!' on the napkin in question. Or had they never figured that part out?__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Casterfo was taking questions now. The man loved to talk, even if he’d mastered the art of not doing it about himself.

"Yes, Leia Organa was an excellent shot. Outstanding! I've never seen a better one. That much I can personally attest to," his eyes lit up as he leaned forward on the lectern. He seemed years younger as went on to describe a daring escape from a crime lord, thoroughly disparaging his efforts to 'rescue' a princess who hadn't needed rescuing at all.

"The personal anecdotes in the biography are interesting," observed a student in the back row. Some keener who'd obviously read their professor’s publication. All of it. Who never missed her office hours, either. “They really make her story come alive, so that it doesn't feel dry or dull."

"I should hope so! Princess Leia was the opposite of either; she was excellent company," chuckled Casterfo. "I freely admit to a certain bias—“ Here he shared another glance with his own Leia--"but in my estimation, my daughter captures the princess' essence remarkably well. The Chiss regard white hair as the sign of one with exceptional offspring. If so, I’ve been blessed twice over!" His blue eyes sparkled with good humour.

Another question, this time from a Pantoran who usually kept his thoughts to himself. "What’s written of her son, Ben Solo--it's pretty cryptic. There's no mention of what actually happened to him. Is that because nobody knows?" 

_Another_ person had read the whole thing? In a matter of days? When did these people study? The site had crashed _three_ times during the Togruta’s download of the hotly-anticipated Organa bio.__

__

__

_ __ _

_ __ _

"Leia Organa's own words are best suited to that truth. I have a complicated relationship with timely reveals when it comes to the Skywalker family,” said Casterfo lightly. 

He waved a hand and dropped a minor bombshell: “The princess' memoirs become public tomorrow--the recording itself, in its original form, thanks to the efforts of her former personal protocol unit, C-3PO." 

Tomorrow? On the anniversary of the Alderaanian cataclysm? Interesting. Interesting that the source in question had been Casterfo’s personal protocol droid, too. 

"Do we know when she actually recorded these memoirs?" asked a Gran from the back row. 

"Yes. Her final entry is dated less than a week before the destruction of the _Raddus_.”__

_ __ _

_ __ _

"So there’s nothing after Crait? Even though so much happened?"

"We were rather busy," Casterfo’s blue eyes crinkled at the corners. "But she'd be glad you're here--studying history--lest the mistakes of the past be repeated."

It was crucial to understand galactic history. How many times had Professor Leia told her students the same, along with how her own love of history had been inspired by her mother’s? Hevasi Joy—the poet, and before that, the singer. She’d met a tragic end.

With a few days left in her husband’s final term, Hevasi Joy and the Prime Senator had travelled to Malastare for the renewal of a treaty granting the Alliance access to the planet’s vital fuel reserves. The signing was merely a formality, essentially a victory lap for the outgoing Prime Senator. Casterfo was known to be a keen racing fan, so they’d taken in some of Malastare’s celebrated pod-racing afterward. 

As they’d mingled with crowds of well-wishers, a youngling had stepped forward to present Hevasi Joy with a bouquet of prized Malastarian orchids. A gust of wind had caught the flowers—prompting the Prime Senator's wife to step into the path of the lethal dart meant for her husband. 

Its tip had been treated with a compound obscure enough to render medical intervention futile. Simple, crude and efficient, it hadn't come courtesy of the Dugs or the Grans but of the slavers Casterfo had spent his entire career attempting rid the galaxy of.

She'd died in his arms, in full view of holodroids who captured the mad scramble of the assassination attempt on the Prime Senator even as security captured the assassin.

Kashyyyk had sworn swift retribution against those responsible, correctly concluding that the slavers had grown desperate after twelve years of steady pressure directed against their operations. 

If the slave syndicates meant to intimidate the incoming Prime Senator with such a brazen act, Charth Brethen of Ryloth was surely the wrong target. Swathes of worlds followed Kashyyyk’s lead before Brethen said a word, and before long the full force of the Alliance and its member worlds was unleashed on the slave syndicates.

In the single largest military action since Exegol, the blight the slavers represented was driven to the furthest reaches of the galaxy. The entire operation took less than two standard months. It must have been a terrible irony for Casterfo.

The evil was swept into the deadly embrace of a Chiss task force, lying in wait at the fringes of what they considered _their_ sphere of influence. No one had anticipated as much, with the possible exception of Ransolm Casterfo. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

Aren, or Tharen, his seldom-seen son, had been at Admiral Sinine’s elbow when she’d delivered the official Chiss statement via holo: "We are the Chiss. Our neighbours are left in peace; our enemies are left in ruin. We are light and culture and glory. We are the Chiss Ascendancy.” 

The next question interrupted the Togruta’s internal musings:

“Poe Dameron is quoted as stating Leia Organa was actually a Jedi, that she trained Master Rey Skywalker.”

“That much I can confirm,” said Casterfo smoothly. 

“What colour was her lightsaber?” called someone from near the back of the hall. Lightsabers were an endless source of fascination when it came to talk of Jedi.

“Her favourite colour. Blue,” said Ransolm, recalling how they’d sparred—the princess’ skin soft, her lips softer—how was it that the softest of kisses were invariably the sweetest—

He took the next question.

”Where is it now? Her lightsaber?” asked someone else.

”That I cannot say.” But Ransolm remembered the feel of it in his palms, the smoothness of its aurodium rings and exquisite Mon Cala pearl inlay—

”Leia Organa was an exceptionally persuasive speaker. In your opinion, did she ever use her Jedi powers in the Senate?”

“You mean abuse them? As Sheev Palpatine did?”

He looked mightily offended. And Force alive, Casterfo had spoken that _name_ —without so much as batting an eyelash—__

_ __ _

_ __ _

“For her own gain?” Ransolm lifted his chin, eyes flashing. “To exert her will over a democratically elected body, no matter its structural shortcomings?” The former Prime Senator’s lips were a thin line. “Certainly not. Though I sometimes wish she would have—think what she might have spared us!” 

What had the man just said? The Togruta sat up. This was getting interesting, not that it wasn’t already. Then his curly-headed seatmate raised her hand, which Casterfo acknowledged.

“It’s said—or rather, it’s been hinted over the years, that after she was widowed, the princess took a lover—” her voice trailed off. What had felt like bravery a moment earlier withered; was that a hint of disapproval in Casterfo’s intense blue gaze? Was he offended? Angry? He held the late Princess in the highest regard.

But Casterfo's expression softened, and he seemed almost amused. “Has Dameron, or anyone else close to Leia Organa, ever confirmed as much? Rey or Finn Skywalker? Connix? Tico? The Wookiee Chewbacca, perhaps? Surely someone’s thought to ask Harter Kalonia by now.

I was there,” he reminded them. “And I doubt many would argue that Captain Solo was anything other than the love of her life. Theirs was a grand passion, to be sure.” Hot enough to burn their marriage to cinders, or at least allow them no breath for compromise.

Spur-of-the-moment vows exchanged in the aftermath of Endor, with Leia reeling from the truth of being Vader’s daughter. How had she once put it? That she and Han were at their best when adrenaline was involved?

Ransolm paused, glancing at the signet glinting on the smallest finger of his left hand. “It is said that those who give the greatest light must first endure the burning,” he said softly. “If you’re suggesting she may have found a measure of happiness after having lost so much?

I like to think she might have.” 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sinine’s quote is taken verbatim from Tim Zahn’s (brilliant-and-highly-recommended!) “Thrawn: Chaos Rising.”
> 
> I can’t take credit for the light/burning quote Ransolm uses but I don’t know whose it actually is.
> 
> Thanks for reading along and supporting my efforts, silently or otherwise, and here’s hoping we haven’t seen the last of Ransolm Casterfo! 
> 
> May whatever Force you believe in be with you and yours in these troubling times. Stay safe and healthy out there.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Over the Hill](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27027244) by [CarneySibley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarneySibley/pseuds/CarneySibley)


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